


The Stingray

by Smediterranea



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, References to Drugs, Slow Burn, Summer Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smediterranea/pseuds/Smediterranea
Summary: “You’re not carrying me.”“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.“I can just hop over.”“On sand?”Zuko willneveradmit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.“What kind of burrito do you want?”“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), background Katara/Aang
Comments: 292
Kudos: 1843





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to finally cool it on my Summer of Writing Fanfic and enjoy more time outside... and then I stepped on a stingray. Hurt like the DICKENS. Upside is while I have been recuperating, I decided to dive into the fun world of Zukka, so here you go.
> 
> Obviously based on an unfortunate animal encounter, but the rest is all highly fictional. Rating will go up in later chapters — this was supposed to be a one-shot, but obviously I have self control issues so it's like 25K words, sorry not sorry.

In retrospect, Zuko should have taken the high tide as a sign. He really should stop trying to procrastinate on work.

Zuko had been going for a walk down the beach twice daily since he arrived at Ember Island, and he was loath to give up his perfect streak. The beach adjacent to his house was about a mile in length, but that was too short for Zuko. He would scramble around the base of the nearby cliff to get to the next beach, which ran for another four miles. He usually only made it about halfway up that one before turning back, but if he was feeling particularly determined, sometimes he did the whole thing. It was easy to make the trek when the tide was low and Zuko could walk on the sand most of the way. This evening, however, the tide had been particularly high, and Zuko had had to wade through to attempt his usual sojourn.

If he had been wading slowly and carefully, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament. Alas, Zuko had been walking gingerly, trying to avoid any submerged rocks. Instead, he had delicately slipped his foot onto the top of something slippery, and it wriggled and took a chunk out of his foot. 

Zuko hops out of the water, more shocked than in pain. A woman about fifteen years his senior, who had been admiring the waves, spots his surprised expression.

“Something bit me,” he says faintly, surprised at the amount and brightness of blood bursting from the top of his foot.

“Oh,” the woman says with a sympathetic grimace. “A stingray.”

Zuko watches as blood continues to blossom onto the sand around his foot. He dimly remembers that stingrays are a problem on this beach, but he’s never even seen one before. He realizes that he has no idea what to do.

“Have you ever been stung before?” the woman asks.

“No.”

“You need to get hot water on it,” the woman says. “I’ll go get the lifeguard. I saw one down a ways.”

Zuko offers a shaky thanks and limps after her. They are at the very far end of the beach, so Zuko decides that the fastest way for him to get help is to take matters into his own hands. The woman walks ahead of him, but she is not running, so Zuko keeps pace with her fairly well. He hobbles along the edge of the water; he’s not sure seawater is great for a wound, but it has to be better than sand, right? It doesn’t really hurt yet, but he knows the longer he walks on it, the worse it’s going to be.

Finally, he sees the woman approach a lifeguard seated in what looks like a dune buggy of some sorts — Zuko is terribly uninterested in cars, so maybe it could just a particularly sporty golf cart for all he knows. At any rate, the lifeguard revs the engine and rolls over the sand to reach Zuko, who stops walking. Once the cart stops, Zuko hoists himself into the passenger seat.

“Hey there,” the lifeguard says casually. “Stingray?”

“Uh, yeah,” Zuko says. “I think so.” He’s a little embarrassed to admit that his first thought was that he had been bitten by a tiny shark. He still hasn’t entirely ruled it out, but it seems unlikely at this point.

“What’s your name?”

“Zuko.”

“Hi, Zuko. How old are you?”

Zuko frowns. The lifeguard must be around his age, and yet he’s talking to him like he’s a child.

“Twenty-six,” Zuko says petulantly. Hm, maybe he _does_ look childish; he certainly sounds like it.

“You allergic to anything, Zuko?”

“Uh, no. Not that I know of,” he amends. Maybe he’s allergic to stingrays and he’s about to make an unpleasant discovery.

“Well, don’t worry, man. We’ll get some hot water on you and you’ll be all good in no time.”

The cart rolls to a stop under the lifeguard tower. 

“See that bench over there?” the lifeguard points. “Why don’t you hop down for me and I’ll meet you over there with some hot water.”

Zuko realizes as he hops down onto the sand that the calm he feels is a little too good to be true. His legs are trembling slightly as he lowers himself out of the cart. He doesn’t quite have the mental focus to figure out how the low door opens, which is concerning. Zuko might not be very mechanically inclined, but he should certainly be able to figure out how to open a door on what feels like a glorified go-kart.

Zuko sits down on the bench, which is really just a wooden plank buried in the sand, and sticks his foot in the hole that has been dug out beneath it. He can see now that the blood on his foot isn’t gushing nearly so much, but he’s still too nervous to inspect it closely. He can’t shake the stabbing sensation he felt — he knows logically it was a stingray, but he’s still a little afraid that there will be a tiny shark tooth embedded below the surface.

The lifeguard returns with a bundle of gauze, a plastic bag, and a large, blue bucket.

“Okay man, here’s what we’re gonna do. First, I’m gonna stop the bleeding,” he says, applying a pad of gauze to Zuko’s foot. He quickly wraps it up with blue bandage tape, pressing lightly to seal it in place. “Now, put your foot in this bag, and I’m gonna add some hot water. As hot as you can stand it, okay? The hotter the better.”

Zuko dutifully follows instructions, holding the bag open around his foot before the lifeguard tips the water in. Immediately, Zuko’s legs starts shaking uncontrollably, his hands clenched around the sides.

“Too hot?”

“Yes,” Zuko gasps.

“Okay, hang on.”

The lifeguard grabs another bucket nearby and pours in warm, but not hot, water.

“Better?”

Zuko nods, but speaking seems too difficult. It’s not that he is in unspeakable pain, more that he has finally realized that he _is_ in pain. The eerie calm he had felt has been violently ripped away, and the remaining adrenaline makes his heart pound frenetically in his chest.

“Scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

“Well, I’m still talking to you, so it can’t be that bad.”

Zuko says this as if someone else is in charge of his brain. It is a reflex — show no pain, show no weakness — but he’s honestly having trouble keeping focus now. Nearby beachgoers are giving him curious looks. One even wanders over to offer to help as the lifeguard slowly adds more hot water to Zuko’s plastic bag. The lifeguard jovially makes conversation with him while Zuko tries to focus on keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Once the interloper is gone, the lifeguard grabs a clipboard.

“Okay, Zuko, so we’re putting your pain down as a six, is that right?”

At this point, Zuko would give his pain an eight, but he doesn’t want to admit to it, so he just nods.

“Zuko, spelled Z-u-k-o?”

“Yes.”

“Last name?”

“Sozin. S-o-z-i-n.”

Spelling seems very difficult at the moment. The lifeguard asks for a phone number and Zuko gives it, thankful that this information can be retrieved automatically from his brain. The lifeguard asks him to repeat the last two numbers and Zuko can barely do it.

The walkie-talkie on the lifeguard’s hip crackles to life.

“Okay, Zuko. I’ve gotta go check something out real quick, but I’ll be back to give you more hot water, okay? Just take some deep breaths, man. I’ll be right back.”

Zuko nods faintly and watches as the lifeguard hops into his cart. Zuko’s muscles clench as he tries to ignore the pain, but with each passing second it mounts higher and higher until Zuko can’t stand it anymore.

He wrenches his shirt up to his face, trying to cover as much as possible. He already hates how much strangers stare at him — one of the many downsides of having a large scar across his cheek— but to cry in public is too much to bear.

Zuko takes deep, gasping breaths as the pain throbs in his foot. He’s not sure why he’s crying so much. Sure, it _hurts_ , but he’s going to be fine. Objectively, he knows this. He’s clearly not allergic to stingrays, he’s being treated by the lifeguards, and he’s staying nearby on the beach. Everything will be fine.

But everything doesn’t _feel_ fine. The searing pain feels amplified by his solitude. He desperately wants the lifeguard to return. He shouldn’t feel so abandoned by a stranger, but Zuko’s got a whole mess of abandonment issues. All of his most painful memories were accompanied by a loneliness so terrible, it always overshadowed the physical ache.

For once in his life, Zuko is thankful that he has panic attacks, because he can clearly see that he’s having one now. Unlike the rest of his panic attacks, this once hasn’t been triggered by something psychological, so it’s easier to identify the signs. His hands are so numb he can barely move them. He struggles to breathe even though he’s out in the fresh air. His legs are still shaking from adrenaline. He can observe these symptoms with just enough rationality to know what is happening, and recognize that it will pass eventually. But _fuck_ , his foot _really_ hurts.

The rumble of the cart signals the lifeguard’s return. Zuko tries not to twitch too much and hopes his eyes aren’t red from crying.

“How you holding up, man?”

“Uh, is there more hot water?”

“Sure thing, man.”

The lifeguard fetches another bucket and he resumes adding hot water in slow increments.

“How’s the pain now? Still at six?”

“Um,” Zuko stutters. He doesn’t want to admit it being worse than a six, but he figures it’s not a good idea to lie to someone who, while not exactly a medical professional, has at least dealt with this problem before. “It went up while you were gone.”

“Ah, sorry, man. Should’ve given you more hot water before I left. How high is it now?”

“Now it’s okay,” Zuko says, feeling calmer. He can finally notice the look of concern on the lifeguard’s tanned face. 

The lifeguard is very handsome, even with the slightly goofy uniform all the lifeguards have. He is wearing a huge panama hat to shade himself from the Ember Island sun, and his sunglasses cover a good portion of his face. But his jaw is cut sharply, and white teeth flash when he speaks, and that’s more than enough to pique Zuko’s interest. The bulky windbreaker and board shorts are not exactly form-flattering, but the man still looks perfectly muscled. The tanned calves and forearms that peek out from the uniform are daydream-quality. Zuko wishes sometimes that he wasn’t quite so easily swayed — life might be slightly easier for him if he didn’t swoon at an exposed wrist like some sort of Victorian socialite.

It gets worse. The sun is dipping low enough on the horizon that the hat becomes unnecessary, so the lifeguard goes to set it down while he fetches more hot water. When he returns, Zuko tries not to stare. The man doesn’t seem to notice Zuko; he’s busy trying to gather his cropped hair to make a little ponytail, revealing a shaved undercut. Zuko’s mouth goes dry.

“Okay, Zuko,” the man says cheerfully as he kneels next to him. “How we doing?”

“Better,” Zuko says. “Maybe like a three now?”

“All right!” The lifeguard sounds pleased. “You should be good pretty soon then. Don’t worry,” he adds, seeing the look of worry on Zuko’s face. “I’m not kicking you out. Stay as long as you like.”

Zuko eyes the horizon, where the sun sinks even lower.

“Aren’t you going to be off duty soon?”

“Yeah, but it takes a while to shut things down. I’ll keep bringing you water until you can walk. Don’t worry man, I got you.”

“Thanks,” Zuko says, embarrassed. “I feel really stupid.”

“Don’t. This happens literally ten times a day.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. This beach has hella stingrays. On the weekends, we can get like fifty incidents in a day, easy.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, surprised. “And hot water is really all it takes?”

“Well,” the lifeguard hesitates, rubbing the short fuzz on the side of his head. “It might still be swollen for a few days after. But yeah, for pain hot water is the way to go. Unless you’ve got something stronger at home. I’ve seen guys go to the hospital for stings though. You don’t need to, of course, but it hurts like hell from what I’ve been told.”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, thinking of his uncontrolled sobbing and swearing when the lifeguard had been gone. “It’s not fun.”

“Shoot, I forgot to ask, but do you live around here? Is there someone who can come pick you up? You should be able to walk soon, but it might be more comfortable if you don’t.”

“I’m staying a half a mile down the beach,” Zuko says.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Can anyone come get you?”

Zuko scowls.

“No.”

“Want a ride?”

“Are you allowed to do that?” Zuko asks, confused.

“Sure, I’ll be off duty in…” the lifeguard scans the horizon — “like half an hour. My boss won’t mind if I drop you off as long as I bring the cart back.”

“I can walk.”

The lifeguard shrugs. 

“If you say so. Look, I gotta go bring the cones in and take care of stuff around here. Why don’t you dump that water out and I’ll get you a fresh batch. You can take off whenever you’re ready.”

He leaves again and Zuko tries not to stare at how the last golden rays of sun kiss his skin. Zuko sighs and sloshes his foot in the hot water. It really does feel much better, but although he’s grateful for the respite in pain, he feels a strange emptiness, too. He realizes with a jolt that other than the woman who had helped bring him to the lifeguard and the lifeguard himself, Zuko has not spoken to another human in almost a month.

He had done this on purpose. He was on a mission in Ember Island: to finally finish his manuscript. It felt so unbearably pretentious to say this out loud that it made Zuko very glad he had exiled himself to the beach house he had inherited from his mother. He usually rented it out during the year, but the loss of income from summer renters wouldn’t be a huge problem. Although Zuko often feels guilty about his inherited wealth — and for the systems in the world that allowed his family to amass such an obscene fortune — he thinks that perhaps it has been karmically balanced with all the other shit that’s happened in his life. He had given up most of the fortune already, but he had kept the beach house as his last link to his beloved mother. Everything else had been his father’s, and Zuko had been more than eager to throw his share away. Besides, Zuko wasn’t even sure his father was really dead — a part of him assumed that his father had faked his death somehow to escape impending criminal charges. Zuko certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

At any rate, Zuko could rest comfortably on the remainder of his money for quite some time, which meant the only things stopping him from actually finishing his novel were his own emotional hangups. They were many: his fear of rejection, his pursuit for perfection, his difficulty trusting others with important decisions. Zuko supposed it wasn’t fair to say he hadn’t spoken to _anyone_ in his month on Ember Island — he called his therapist and his uncle weekly to check in — but he hadn’t talked to anyone in person. He barely left the house unless it was for his daily walks, and he was getting all his groceries delivered. Zuko had hoped that solace would help him focus, but being left alone with just his thoughts wasn’t working out too well.

Once the sun has truly set, Zuko decides it’s best to head home. He tries standing and his foot seems able to bear weight. He wishes he could leave a note to thank the lifeguard, but Zuko’s pockets are empty except for his keys and his phone. The beach is mostly deserted now; the afternoon had been unusually cool and windy, and now it is too dark to play in the surf. Zuko limps along the sand, trying to tilt his foot so it doesn’t get too dirty.

He makes it about fifty yards from the lifeguard tower before his foot starts to throb. The pain escalates quickly, and with it comes a burst of panic. Zuko can see his house in the distance, but it looks impossibly far away now. The stabbing pain in his foot increases with every step, and his breath comes in short, shallow gasps.

Bright light illuminates Zuko from behind, and an engine hums as the lights grow brighter. 

“Need a ride?”

Zuko is too weak to refuse. Zuko struggles to hoist himself into the cart, and the lifeguard grabs his arms to help steady him. Once Zuko has settled into the seat, he lets out a hiss of pain.

“That bad?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Zuko grunts. “ _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ ”

The lifeguard sets the cart in gear and they roll across the sand. Zuko tries to will the lifeguard to drive faster — his foot throbs with every bump — but the lifeguard continues to drive at a sedate pace. Zuko pants agains the pain, tears stinging his eyes. 

“You know,” the lifeguard says cautiously, his eyes fixed on their path. “My sister is training to be a doctor. She told me that crying is actually really good for you. Lowers your cortisol levels, so your body actually feels less stress. I don’t know if it’s true, but she’s the smartest person I know so…”

Zuko is in too much pain to feel embarrassed any more. Tears spill down his face as he sobs, the sound mixing with the hum of the engine and the thrum of the ocean. He cries like a child, unable to catch his breath at the force of his gasps. The lifeguard says nothing, but Zuko isn’t sure he would really even hear it over his own pitiful weeping. After a few minutes, his crying abates — he _does_ feel better — but the physical pain is just as sharp. He grips his uninjured leg tightly, clenching and unclenching his muscles as he tries not to wriggle out of the cart.

“Okay, Zuko,” the lifeguard says as they approach the end of the beach. “Which one is you?”

“That one,” Zuko points, grinding his jaw through the pain. “White steps.”

The cart rolls to a stop and the lifeguard hops out, extending his arms to Zuko. Zuko balks.

“You’re not carrying me.”

“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.

“I can just hop over.”

“On sand?”

Zuko scowls. Trying to hop over the short, sandy stretch that led to the steps of the house would certainly land him flat on his face.

“Fine,” Zuko grits outs.

Zuko hasn’t been carried since he was a child, and he will _never_ admit it, but it feels pretty nice. Zuko can tell that the lifeguard is well-built. Zuko knows that he might not look it, but he is _heavy_. One of the few ways Zuko actually took care of himself was staying in shape, so each of his limbs was densely packed with muscle. From the feel of it, the lifeguard carrying him is built the same way. Were he in less pain, Zuko might even find it rather enticing to have a man be able to pick him up like this. As it is, however, it takes everything for Zuko not to cry again as the man sets him down in front of the gate. Zuko unlocks it with shaking hands.

“Are you really all by yourself?” the lifeguard asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”

“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed. 

“Look, I gotta bring this cart back, but would it be okay if I came by later? Just to make sure you’re doing alright.”

“You’re off duty,” Zuko points out.

“I know. It’s my time. I want to spend it to make sure you’re okay.”

Zuko really should just head straight for more hot water for his foot, but this gives him pause.

“Why?”

The lifeguard looks embarrassed.

“I don’t know, man. I’m not trying to make it weird. Just… I dunno, most people are assholes to me all day, and you weren’t. And if it were me all alone, I’d like having someone come bring me a burrito or something.”

Zuko hesitates for a moment before a spasm of pain demands his attention.

“Okay, I’ll leave the gate unlocked,” he says, hopping up the stairs as he grabs the railings. “But you don’t have to —“

“What kind of burrito do you want?”

“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.

“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”

“Sure,” Zuko says, slightly exasperated. His foot is _killing_ him, but he just can’t bring himself to be rude to this man. He knows he will have to recount this story to his uncle when he checks in with him, and it would be too shameful to admit that he had been less than grateful to this kind lifeguard.

Zuko hears the cart rumble back up the beach as he hops frantically across the house. He tracks sandy footprints across the smooth floors until he stumbles into the bathroom, scrambling to turn on the water. Even though he’s wearing a pair of regular shorts, he sits down in the tub, feeling the water slowly seeping into the fabric. The hot water helps, but he starts weeping again anyway. It’s partly because of the pain — it still really, really _hurts_ — but it’s more than that. His mind keeps replaying the injury: the sudden, unexpected stab to his foot, the fear when he was left alone and in pain. It’s a horribly familiar feeling, and he finds himself clutching the scarred side of his face as memories swirl inside his head. 

The pain ebbs slowly, and Zuko’s emotions quiet. He’s feels tender and bruised, suddenly aware just how pitiful he must look: fully clothed and half-submerged in the bathtub, alone and trembling slightly. He slowly gathers his wits about him. He might be alone, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take care of himself.

Gingerly, he steps out of the tub and drains it. He decides the sandy floor can wait, and he hops around the house to gather his supplies. He struggles to swap out his now-soaked shorts, and he tugs on a clean shirt and swim trunks. He programs the hot tub outside to as hot he can, and he swallows a few Ibuprofen for good measure. He had had enough foresight to remove his keys and phone from his pockets before submerging himself in the bathtub, and he brings them outside with him as he soaks his foot in the roiling hot tub.

He debates calling his uncle but decides against it. Iroh would worry, and really, Zuko was fine. A little hungry, perhaps, but he would find some leftovers in the fridge to heat up once his foot hurt less. Zuko was just fine on his own.

A half hour passes, and Zuko stares up into the inky black night. He thinks about all the final edits he needs to make to his writing. He’s starting to worry he won’t ever really be done with it, or worse, that he doesn’t _want_ to be done with it. Because what will he have once he’s put the story out on the page?

Distracted by his own thoughts and the hum of the jacuzzi jets, Zuko doesn’t hear the gate below swing shut. He does, however, hear the shuffling of feet up the stairs and panics slightly.

“Hey, man, it’s me! How’s the foot?”

Zuko gapes. He had not entirely forgotten the lifeguard’s promise to return, but he hadn’t quite believed it either. He can see that the man has changed into a cerulean sweatshirt that highlights his piercing blue eyes. Zuko is momentarily stunned into silence.

“Al pastor burrito from Mama J’s,” the man says happily, thrusting a bag into Zuko’s hand. “Best in town.”

“Mama J’s?”

“Yeah, you been there before?”

“Never heard of it,” Zuko admits.

“Technically, that’s not the name. It’s a bar-restaurant hybrid. I don’t remember the bar’s name, but Mama J serves food inside. And her al pastor is the _best_. Need anything before I dig into this? Because I’m _starving_.”

“I’m good,” Zuko says faintly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I think I did,” the lifeguard says with a smirk. “You’ve never had Mama J’s before! Forget your foot — this is a mission of culinary education!”

Zuko’s stomach rumbles faintly. The burrito does smell delicious, and the aftermath of Zuko’s ordeal has left him rather hungry. He takes a bite and catches the man staring at him.

“Well?”

“It’s delicious,” Zuko admits.

The man gives Zuko a grin that makes his stomach clench. It’s going to be really hard to eat the rest of this burrito in the presence of someone so mind-bogglingly handsome.

The man seems unperturbed, however, and starts to wolf down his own burrito. His table manners leave a lot of be desired, but it makes it a little easier for Zuko to eat. Good to know this man isn’t perfect.

They eat mostly in silence. When Zuko finishes, the lifeguard stands to take the ball of foil from him and walks into the house to throw it away. When he returns, Zuko flushes.

“I realized I don’t know your name.”

“I’m Sokka,” the man says with a grin. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Zuko.”

“I remember.”

“Right,” Zuko says, flushing. “Er, thanks for the burrito. What do I owe you?”

“Nah, it’s cool.”

“I insist.”

Sokka eyes him for a moment with an evaluating expression. Zuko feels his heart flop in his chest.

“I’ll trade you for it.”

“Trade?”

“I’ll take a beer and some company,” Sokka says with a slow smile.

“Oh,” Zuko stutters. “Uh, sure. Beer’s in the fridge.”

“Awesome,” Sokka says eagerly. “Want one?”

“Okay.”

Zuko tries not to panic. He feels rusty from his lack of human interaction, although honestly he wasn’t all that great at it even when he was seeing people on a daily basis. He has certainly never figured out how to talk to someone as good-looking as Sokka. Zuko finds it ironic that even though he is attracted to both men and women, he isn’t good at talking to either. 

Sokka returns, beers in hand, and plops down onto the edge of the hot tub. He sticks his feet in the water as he hands Zuko a can.

“Foot feeling better?”

“Yeah. Not much pain now.”

“That’s good.”

“Sorry about earlier,” Zuko blurts.

“For what?”

“You know… crying like a crazy person.”

“Eh,” Sokka says with a wave of his hand. “Happens all the time. The worst are the guys who get mad at _me_ because they can’t just man up and cry like they’re supposed to.”

“Most people think it’s ‘manning up’ by _not_ crying,” Zuko points out.

“Which is some heteronormative bullshit,” Sokka scoffs. “Nothing wrong with a good cathartic cry.”

Zuko says nothing, staring at the swirling water. He tries to remember the way Sokka had wiped salsa off his face with his bare hand to keep the powerful attraction he feels in check.

“So what’s with the house?” Sokka asks, looking around the yard as he sips his beer. “You like, famous or something?”

“Uh, no,” Zuko says, which is mostly the truth. Some might argue that his father Ozai was _infamous_ as an immoral tech tycoon, but Zuko himself was not well known. The most fame he had achieved was anonymously publishing pieces in the local paper.

“Super rich?” Sokka continues to guess. “Housesitting? Illegally squatting while the owners are away?”

“My mom left me the house when she died.”

Something complicated happens to Sokka’s face that Zuko doesn’t quite understand. He can tell, however, that he has made things weird. He always makes things weird.

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Sokka says finally, his face slightly pinched. “I, uh…I lost my mom, too.”

He rubs the back of his head, blinking rapidly. Zuko feels something tighten in his chest.

“Sorry,” Sokka says, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t really… I don’t really talk about her much, and…”

His voice cracks and his shoulder hitch. 

“Someone really smart told me today that crying is good for you,” Zuko offers quietly. “And pointed out it’s very manly to cry.”

Sokka huffs a laugh.

“Sounds like a good dude,” Sokka says with a watery smile.

“Yeah, he seems cool,” Zuko agrees.

Sokka lets out a deep breath and fixes Zuko with a full grin that makes him feel slightly dazed.

“I’d say this evening is a very fair trade for a burrito,” Sokka says.

“I don’t know about that,” Zuko mumbles. “That beer is like a month old and I brought up my dead mom and made you cry.”

Sokka snorts.

“Yeah, well, it’s better than hanging out at my place.”

Zuko freezes.

“Are you… safe at home?”

Sokka goggles at him, slightly incredulous.

“Whoa, it’s nothing like that! I just live with my sister and her boyfriend is in town. They’ve been making googly eyes at each other all week.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, flushing. “That… doesn’t sound fun for you.”

Sokka shrugs.

“I mean I like Aang — that’s her boyfriend— and I love my sister, but I think they want some _privacy_. Ugh. As if I needed another reminder that I’m single as _fuuuuck._ ”

Sokka flops down onto his back. Zuko is extremely glad Sokka can’t see the blush on his face.

“Doesn’t an Ember Island lifeguard have plenty of opportunities to meet people?” Zuko says, carefully avoiding mentioning any specific gender.

“Yeah, I meet a lot of parents who have lost their kids and people who get caught in rip currents,” Sokka says grumpily. “But even if I did meet someone cool, we are super forbidden from hitting on anyone. We’re supposed to be hyper vigilant all the time. The only reason I could come over here to help you out is because you got stung after my shift was over.”

Zuko blinks.

“Wait, what?”

“Oh,” Sokka says looking a little abashed. “Technically, I had just gotten off-duty when that lady approached me to tell me you got stung. I was gonna just leave you with my partner, Jet, but then he’s kind of a flake and he took off, so I just hung around and covered for him.”

“But I was out there for like an hour! He made you cover an hour of his shift after you were done?”

“Yeah, and normally I would be _pissed_ , but I ended up with the better end of the deal. Now he owes me big for not ratting him out to our boss, which means he has to trade me for a Saturday shift and those are the _worst_. Plus, I got to meet you. Now I’ve got al pastor in my belly and my feet in a hot tub. Could be worse!”

Zuko fights a smile.

“Want another beer?”

“Sure. No, don’t get up,” Sokka adds quickly as Zuko makes to stand. “No way am I letting you walk around on that yet.”

“I’m fine now,” Zuko shouts at Sokka’s retreating form. “I looked it up and it says it should only hurt for sixty to ninety minutes.”

Sokka looks at his watch.

“Then you’ve got ten more minutes of me annoying you!”

Sokka returns again and they clink their cans together.

“You’re not annoying me,” Zuko says finally. “It’s… nice. Having someone else around.”

“You live here alone then? This house is huge.”

“I don’t normally live here,” Zuko explains. “I just came for the summer while I’m… working.”

“What do you do for work?”

Zuko hesitates.

“Are you a secret drug lord?” Sokka asks with a grin. “Mad scientist? A wealthy widower with a dark and mysterious secret?”

Zuko’s face twists into a grimace.

“Guess I really look the evil part, huh?”

Sokka looks horrified.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant! Zuko, I —“

“It’s fine,” Zuko lies.

“No, dude, really,” Sokka pleads. “I didn’t mean anything like that. I…”

Sokka bites his lip, taking in Zuko’s defensive stance. Zuko tries not to scowl, but he was never very good at hiding his feelings.

“I don’t really trust rich people,” Sokka admits finally. “I grew up… well, I didn’t really know we were _poor_ but it was pretty obvious we didn’t have a lot. And our whole community just kept getting fucked over by all these companies just trying to make money off of our lands and… I guess I still have a hard time thinking anyone rich really deserves what they’ve got.”

Zuko turns to face Sokka. He’s usually not one to forgive people for hurting him — experience has proven that people who hurt him once are willing, and often eager, to do it again — but he can see the remorse on Sokka’s face. His blue eyes gleam in the dim light of the moon.

“Seriously, I wasn’t trying to be a dick,” Sokka says sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko repeats, surprised that it’s not a lie this time. “Rich people suck.”

Sokka’s eyes flit to the house.

“I know,” Zuko says with a wry smile. “I suppose I can’t really complain. But I agree with you, and my family _definitely_ got more than their share. And not by playing fair, either.”

“Well, you don’t seem so bad,” Sokka says, still looking slightly shamefaced.

“I’m here to work on my novel,” Zuko admits. “There, am I as much of a rich douchebag as you thought?”

He tries to play it off as a joke, but Sokka looks interested.

“What kind of novel?”

“Um,” Zuko says, suddenly shy. “Fiction. Sort of a coming-of-age story, I guess.”

“How much have you written?”

“Almost all of it, actually. I’m supposed to be finishing it this summer, but I’ve been slow.”

“Can I read it?”

Zuko swallows heavily.

“Uh, I’m not sure… I’m not really ready to show it to anyone yet.”

“That’s cool,” Sokka says brightly. “Wow, that must have taken a lot of time. A whole novel!”

“It’s not a big deal,” Zuko mumbles.

“Yeah, it is. That’s awesome, man. And hey, I know it sucks you got stung, but now you’re gonna be off your feet for a few days. Maybe you can work on it more?”

“…That’s a really good point.”

“And then can I read it?”

Zuko eyes Sokka with suspicion.

“Why do you want to read it?”

Sokka shrugs.

“I’m bored,” he admits. “I need something to distract me from my sister and her boyfriend, remember? Nothing like a good book to take you away from a bad time.”

“What if it’s a bad book?”

“I once hate-read all of the Twilight books after I broke my leg.”

“…Oh, Spirits, that sounds awful.”

“It was,” Sokka says cheerfully. “But it was kind of nice to have something to be mad about that wasn’t just being stuck at home with a broken leg while my friends got to go outside.”

“You’re really optimistic, aren’t you?”

“No way! I’m a realist,” Sokka says with passion. “And I know that sometimes life really sucks and the only way out of it is through it. Or around it, if you’ve got a good distraction I guess.”

Zuko smirks and turns to stare out at the ocean. The two of them sit in silence, listening to the waves crashing along the shore as they nurse their beers. Sokka’s phone buzzes a few times, but he ignores it. Finally, he heaves a sigh and pulls it out of his pocket.

“Everything okay?” Zuko asks.

“Yeah, just the surf thread.”

“Of _course_ you surf.”

Sokka flashes him a toothy smile.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty terrible. Grew up in the South Pole,” he adds to Zuko’s skeptical look. “Not a lot of surfing down there. But most the lifeguards here surf on their off days, so I’m trying to learn. Seems like there’s a good swell tomorrow morning.”

“You have tomorrow off then?”

“Yeah, and the day after. Do you mind if I swing by to check on you? I don’t know if you need like, groceries and stuff, but I don’t mind bringing some by if your foot still hurts.”

Zuko stares at Sokka, taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

“Too much?” Sokka asks, looking sheepish.

“What?”

“Oh, uh,” Sokka stammers. “My sister likes to call me the ‘plan guy.’ Sometimes I get an idea in my head and I just… start planning. Some people find it kinda off-putting though. Y’know, because I get all up in their business. I can overstep sometimes. If you want privacy to work, that’s totally cool. I didn’t mean —“

“Sokka, it’s okay,” Zuko says, trying to stem the flow of Sokka’s words. “I don’t want to put you out, but you’re welcome to come by if you want. You don’t even have to check up on me. You can just chill out here.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” Zuko shrugs. “What kind of evil rich person would I be if I didn’t share?”

Sokka groans.

“I’m not going to live that down, am I?”

“Honestly, my uncle would be _thrilled_ if I wasn’t moping around here by myself. And maybe I’ll actually be productive if there’s someone else around.”

“Your uncle?”

Zuko feels his face heat.

“He was my guardian after…” Zuko trails off. He decides he doesn’t want to get into his messy family history just yet, so he pivots. “He’s my closest family and he worries about me.”

“Well, you can tell him you’ve got a certified lifeguard checking up on you now.”

“Or at least, I’ve got a certified lifeguard coming by to drink my beer.”

“ _And_ watch sports on your TV,” Sokka says, jerking his head to the flat screen visible inside through the huge glass windows. “Seriously, how big is that thing?”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a football fan. I can’t deal with that being on all afternoon.”

“I’m from the South Pole, remember? Hockey fan,” he says proudly. “And it’s not football season even if I did want to watch it.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Zuko says honestly. “But you’re welcome to watch TV here. Probably beats watching your sister and her boyfriend… what was it? Make ‘googly eyes’ at each other?”

Zuko sits up. He pulls his foot from the hot tub, bright pink from the heat. He takes a few tentative steps before he notices Sokka beside him, arms slightly outstretched in case Zuko falls. Normally Zuko would flinch at being offered help, but Sokka looks so serious that Zuko feels something else squirm in his gut. He tries not to analyze it too much as he makes his way slowly to the house.

“You okay for the night?” Sokka asks as he rinses out the empty beer cans.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. You’re good to drive?”

“Yeah. Hey, can I get your number? I’ll give you a head’s up before I swing by so I don’t interrupt you if you’re in writing mode or whatever.”

Zuko feels butterflies as he puts his number into Sokka’s phone.

 _He just wants to use your TV and your hot tub_ , he reminds himself.

 _But maybe he’ll be shirtless in the hot tub?_ a hopeful voice whispers in his head.

Sokka leaves with a grin and a promise to come by after he’s done surfing in the morning. Zuko limps up the stairs to the master bedroom and flops onto the bed. He’s slightly relieved his foot is achy, because it distracts him from the arousal that curls in his belly every time he remembers Sokka’s smile, or how strong Sokka’s arms had felt when he had carried him.

All in all, Zuko had had worse days.


	2. Chapter 2

Zuko’s foot feels okay when he wakes up, but by the time he’s eaten breakfast and sat on the porch for his morning meditation, it starts to swell up again. His pale skin is tinged with blue and purple several inches around the wound. The cut itself doesn’t appear to be infected, so there’s really not much for Zuko to do but keep it elevated. 

He spends his morning on the phone with his uncle, Iroh. He recounts his misadventures with the stingray and assures Iroh that he will make a full recovery.

“But nephew,” his uncle protests. “You are all alone! What if you run out of supplies? I can send you tea, of course, but —“

“I’ve got plenty of tea, uncle,” Zuko says quickly. “Thank you. And, uh… someone is coming by to check on me.”

As expected, his uncle pounces on this information.

“A friend?”

“I guess,” Zuko says uneasily. “It’s the lifeguard who helped me.”

“I was not aware lifeguards made house calls. Although I suppose the house _is_ technically on the beach.”

“He’s off-duty today.”

“Ah,” Iroh says knowingly. “So you made a… special connection with this man?”

“Uncle!” Zuko says, scandalized. “He was just being nice!”

Iroh makes a humming noise that Zuko associates with his teenage years. Zuko had made plenty of bad decisions when he was younger, but his uncle had rarely told him his face he thought Zuko was wrong. He just made that _sound_ and Zuko knew.

“If anything, he just wants to come by to use the hot tub,” Zuko says petulantly. “It’s not like _that_ , uncle.”

“Perhaps not,” his uncle says lightly. “But it _has_ been a long time since you had a companion.”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Zuko groans.

“All I am saying, nephew, is that perhaps it will do you good to meet some new people. Especially a handsome and heroic lifeguard!”

“I never said he was handsome, uncle.”

“But is he?”

“…Yes.”

“How delightful,” Iroh says in the same breezy voice. “Even if you do not become lovers, it is always a pleasure to look upon those blessed with beauty of both mind and body.”

“I’m hanging up now, uncle.”

“Make sure you drink plenty of ginseng tea for your foot!” Iroh adds quickly. “It has anti-inflammatory properties.”

Zuko swallows and takes a deep breath to calm himself. He doesn’t like being irritated with his uncle, especially because he knows his uncle only wants the best for him. When Zuko speaks again, it is in a much warmer tone.

“Thank you, uncle. It was really nice to talk to you.”

“The pleasure is always mine, Zuko.”

“Bye, uncle.”

“Goodbye, nephew.”

After he hangs up, Zuko sets about arranging himself a nest on the couch so he can lift his foot into the air. He’s feeling a little antsy at the prospect of seeing Sokka. He tries not to get his hopes up — Sokka probably had better things to do than come sit on a stranger’s couch — but Zuko can’t help but jump every time his phone buzzes.

Just before noon, Zuko’s phone lights up.

_Sokka: Yo man, want some tacos? I am fucking starving (11:54AM)_

Zuko fumbles in his haste to answer.

_Zuko: Sure, but you have to let me Venmo you for them. What’s your handle? (11:54AM)_

_Sokka: @boomerangguy but I’ll just send you a request once I get tacos. I’ll get a bunch and then you can pick what you want. (11:55AM)_

Zuko flicks through his phone to find the appropriate application and wires Sokka the money.

_Sokka: Dude, you just sent me way too much. (11:57AM)_

_Zuko: It’s for the burrito, too (11:57AM)_

_Sokka: I already got paid in beer and company, remember? (11:58AM)_

_Zuko: Consider it a delivery fee then (11:58AM)_

_Sokka: This is like three days worth of taco money (11:59AM)_

_Zuko: Now I’m worried about the quality of these tacos if they’re that cheap. What kind of messed up taco places are you frequenting? (11:59AM)_

_Sokka: Slander! These are Mama J tacos are there will be no besmirching of her good name (12:00PM)_

_Zuko: My apologies to you and to the great Mama J herself (12:00PM)_

_Sokka: Apology accepted. And this just means I’ll have to bring you tacos again tomorrow.(12:01PM)_

_Zuko: I can live with that (12:02PM)_

_Sokka: Okay, I got the tacos. Be there in like 20. (12:03PM)_

_Zuko: Cool. There’s a code on the gate outside. 0653 and you can park anywhere on the driveway. Front door is unlocked. (12:04PM)_

_Sokka: Oooh, no street parking for me, so fancy. Then I’ll be there in like 10 (12:05PM)_

_Zuko: Sorry if that doesn’t give you enough time to eat all the tacos before you get here (12:06PM)_

_Sokka: I feel both offended and so very SEEN (12:06PM)_

Zuko limps up to his bedroom, grinning like an idiot. He’s not sure if he’s just reading into it, but the texts felt a little flirty to him. Even if they weren’t, he still likes having someone to banter with him. He decides to change into a slightly more form-fitting shirt, just in case.

Sokka strolls in a few minutes after Zuko has re-settled into his nest of pillows.

“Hey, man! How’s the foot doing?”

“Fine. A little swollen.”

Sokka plops down on the rug next to Zuko, whistling as he inspects Zuko’s foot.

“Look at those colors! Doesn’t hurt too much to walk?”

“Well, it’s not exactly comfortable. But it’s not any worse than a sprained ankle or anything.”

“Okay,” Sokka says, seemingly assured. “Taco time?”

Zuko struggles to his feet. Sokka grins at him.

“I can carry you to the table if you want.”

“Sokka, I’m _fine_.”

“Oh, come on. How many opportunities do you get as an adult to get carried around?”

“If you were in my shoes, would you let _me_ carry _you_?”

Sokka cocks his head and reaches out to squeeze Zuko’s bicep. Zuko tries very hard not to blush at the touch.

“Yeah, you seem pretty strong,” Sokka says with a cocky smirk. “C’mon, you want a ride to the table or what?”

“Fine. Wait, what do you mean a ri—“

Before Zuko can protest, Sokka has looped Zuko over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“This is not what I meant!” Zuko shouts. “What are you doing?”

“Easiest way to carry someone, bro,” Sokka says.

“This is _not_ how you carried me yesterday,” Zuko pouts. “And don’t call me bro.”

Sokka chuckles as he sets Zuko down.

“Yesterday you were in a lot of pain. Fireman’s carry is easiest for me, but it’s not always the most comfortable for the person you’re carrying. C’mon, let’s eat some tacos!”

Sokka has brought a truly alarming number of tacos and proceeds to consume them all at top speed. Zuko eats at a more sedate pace, trying to think of something to say. Despite the unexpected warmth he feels towards Sokka, they are still practically strangers.

“Good surf today?” Zuko asks once Sokka has powered through a half-dozen tacos.

“It was alright,” Sokka says, his brow creasing slightly. “It’s just kinda hard to hang out with those guys. I’m not really on their level, surf-wise.”

Zuko makes a sympathetic noise. Sokka grabs another taco.

“I heard so many great things about Ember Island,” Sokka continues between bites. “But I guess it was mostly from tourists. I didn’t really think about what it would be like to _live_ here. In some ways it’s like home — pretty tight-knit community and all that — but I was always on the inside at home. Here, I’m an outsider. It’s… not always that fun.”

Zuko’s heart sinks.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says. “How long have you lived here?”

“I’m just here for the summer,” Sokka explains. “My sister is starting med school in the fall, and this was supposed to be our last adventure together. She’s a lifeguard, too. We just thought it would be fun to live on a beach and chill out for a bit.”

“So you’ll go back to the South Pole once the summer ends?”

“I guess,” Sokka sighs.

Zuko doesn’t want to pry, but something in Sokka’s tone pulls at him. He forces himself to stay quiet as Sokka steers the conversation back to the tacos they are eating.

Once they finish, Zuko feels antsy again, unsure of what to do with himself in Sokka’s presence.

“If you want me to clear out so you can work…” Sokka starts.

“No, you can stay,” Zuko says quickly. “I’m not being productive anyway. It’s hard to look at my laptop while my leg’s elevated.”

“Okay,” Sokka says with a smile. “Wanna hang out then?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want to do?”

Zuko ponders this. He’s certain there’s a right answer to this, some magic activity that will get Sokka to stick around as long as possible, but he can’t think of what it might be.

“If you had this place all to yourself,” he asks Sokka finally, “what would you do?”

“It depends,” Sokka says with great solemnity.

“On?”

“I mean, if I was only here for one day, I would for _sure_ do it up. Invite people over, cannonball contest in the pool, dance party on the deck.”

“And if you were here for longer than that?”

“Honestly? It’s been a long week and I would just get high and play Mario Kart.”

Surprised laughter bursts from Zuko’s lips. Sokka gives him a sheepish grin that fills Zuko with an unfamiliar, bubbly happiness.

“I can make that happen,” Zuko says. 

“Really?”

The glow in Sokka’s bright blue eyes makes Zuko momentarily forget himself. He starts after a moment, realizing how long he’s been staring.

“Anything for the taco delivery guy.”

“Hey, don’t sell me short. I deliver burritos, too.”

Zuko barks another laugh as he limps towards the stairs.

“Whoa, I know you said your foot doesn’t hurt much, but you don’t have to go up the stairs. I can go get what you need.”

“It’s fine,” Zuko says, a flush creeping up his neck. “It’s hard to find anyway. But if you want, you can set up the console. It should be in that cabinet next to the TV.”

Zuko pads into his room and rummages through the bedside table. He’s touched that Sokka keeps offering to help, but no way in hell was Zuko going to let Sokka go looking for his vape pen. Zuko keeps in crammed in a drawer with all of his other vaguely unsavory items. He supposes he shouldn’t be ashamed of the things in this drawer; he was an adult, and his sexual proclivities and occasional marijuana use were his own business. But it was hard to undo all the negative talk he had heard over the years about things he liked — even innocent things, like the music he listened to and the books he read — and it made him possessive and private over his secrets. He wasn’t hiding, per se. He just didn’t think the best way to announce himself to the world was by holding up his favorite brand of lube and the sex toy of his choice.

Zuko arrives back downstairs to find Sokka has already set up the gaming system and rearranged Zuko’s nest so they can play together.

“That was fast,” Zuko remarks. “I’m really bad with setting up all the game stuff. It’s most of the reason I haven’t played yet.”

“Years of experience,” Sokka smirks.

Zuko settles himself onto the couch, taking a drag from the vape pen before passing it to Sokka. He idly flicks through setting up his character profile while watching Sokka out of the corner of his eye. There was something about watching the fog curling from Sokka’s mouth that was dangerously alluring.

They while away the afternoon, passing the vape pen between them and trading insults as their avatars careen around the brightly lit track. After a while, they lose interest in the video game and make their way to the side of the pool. Sokka strips off his shirt and Zuko tries not to ogle him too much. He takes off his own shirt and tries to check if Sokka has a similar reaction to him, but Sokka’s eyes are already closed as he lies under the shade of an umbrella.

“I don’t blame you for not getting any work done,” Sokka sighs. “It is really nice out here.”

Zuko hums in agreement, and the two of them lie in silence as the sun blazes overhead. A half hour passes before the heat becomes too much and Sokka cannonballs into the pool to swim a few laps. Zuko settles for a less dramatic entrance, sighing as he slowly dips himself into the deep end.

“Water is so weird,” Sokka says, watching as droplets trickle from the ends of his fingers.

“…How high are you right now?”

“Not very,” Sokka admits, treading over to sit on the built-in bench next to Zuko. “But water _is_ weird.”

“It’s really hard to take you seriously when you say that.”

“Think about it!” Sokka protests. “Like we’re mostly made of water, right? But our water is _super_ different from this water.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one thing, blood is a non-Newtonian fluid. All the rules for regular water are all fucked up because there’s stuff in it. Your red blood cells totally change the viscosity — it’s actually a shear-thinning fluid.”

“…What in Agni’s name are you talking about?”

Sokka ducks his head.

“I may have gotten lost in a Wikipedia hole last night.”

“Is that what you do for fun?” Zuko asks faintly. “Just casually research non-Newtonian fluids?”

“Thought I could use a refresher.”

“A refresher... meaning you already _know_ about this stuff?”

“It’s been a while since I took fluid dynamics, but…” Sokka shrugs. “Yeah, this stuff is kind of trippy. I don’t know… I stare at the water all day for work. Sometimes I think about what it’s made of.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way…” Zuko says anxiously. “But if you’ve studied fluid dynamics, how…?”

“How did I wind up being a lifeguard at a tourist hotspot?” Sokka finishes with a grimace.

Zuko nods weakly, worried at Sokka’s darkening expression. Sokka glowers at the water, moving his hands restlessly. He glances at Zuko briefly and he must see something in Zuko’s expression, because his scowl melts. Zuko feels a rush of relief; having people angry with him for saying the wrong thing is pretty high up on the list of things to trigger his anxiety.

“It’s a fair question,” Sokka says with a sigh. “I studied engineering in college.”

There is an awkward pause. Zuko waits, hoping Sokka will elaborate, but the sentence hangs uncomfortably between them.

“You said you were just here for the summer to spend time with your sister,” Zuko remembers finally. “So are you taking a break from engineering? Is that what your job is back home?”

“No,” Sokka says, the dark expression clouding his face again. “I work at a hockey rink. I teach lessons and stuff. Mostly little kids trying to learn to skate backwards.”

“That… sounds pretty adorable actually.”

“I mean, the kids _are_ pretty adorable at first,” Sokka agrees. “But wait until you have to help a dozen five-year-olds change out of their hockey pads because they all have to go potty at the same time.”

Zuko lets out an honest-to-Agni _giggle_ , and Sokka’s face lights up at the sound. Normally Zuko would be embarrassed for having a crush this fast, but he supposes that he’s liked less handsome guys for worse reasons before.

“So,” Zuko says quickly, turning his face towards the sun and hoping it hides his flushed skin. “Something tells me you weren’t putting your fluid dynamics knowledge to use with the five-year-olds, either.”

Sokka sighs.

“No,” he admits. “I _did_ used to work as an engineer. Not in fluid mechanics, actually — that’s just a side interest.”

“Right,” Zuko says with a smirk. “A totally normal and low-key hobby. Who doesn’t want to do calculus for fun?”

“Right?” Sokka smirks back. “Anyway, I… uh, quit. About a year ago. Sort of been bouncing around ever since.”

“Why did you quit?”

Sokka goes quiet. The grim expression on his face is back, but it morphs slowly into something sad. A long minute passes before Sokka speaks.

“Have you heard of The Mechanist?”

Zuko frowns.

“Yeah, actually, I have.”

Zuko may be trying to break into the writing world after completing his Master’s in Fine Arts, but before he had pivoted to what he _really_ wanted to do, he had been a business major in college. He had hated it, but he hadn’t been _bad_ at it. In fact, it was pretty useful sometimes. It had helped him figure out how to navigate the world of publishing enough to get paid for some of his earlier work, and it had given him a good sense for where to invest his inherited wealth. Most of his money had been donated to charities after Zuko had carefully vetted them, but some money had been invested into start-ups that he thought had promising ideas. Not all of them had panned out, but Zuko didn’t mind much so long as he supported people building towards a better future.

The Mechanist had been an up-and-coming company Zuko had heard about when he was in college. It was all the rage at the time: Zuko’s business classmates all wanted to invest or join the management ranks, and every engineer worth their salt applied to work there. It was an extremely selective place to be, though, and Zuko knew almost nobody who actually got hired. If Sokka had worked at The Mechanist, he must have been a truly gifted engineer, which made it all the more surprising that he was spending his days pouring hot water on stingray victims.

“I got a job right out of college,” Sokka says quietly, avoiding Zuko’s eyes. “It was my dream job. Or at least, I thought it was…”

Sokka sighs and slumps back against the wall of the pool. His head lolls on the hot concrete as he stares up at the towering afternoon clouds.

“The project I was working on was supposed to be making surveillance drones. It sounds iffy, I know, but we were going to be using them for geo-mapping. You know, getting good shots of terrain, figuring out existing boundaries of forests for conservation stuff. We went really hard at the conservation angle, and I was super into it. In the South Pole, we consider our lands to be a sacred gift. We can use its resources, but we need to protect it, too. I shot a lot of footage with my prototypes — really highlighted how well we could map even the most difficult stuff, like snow fields. I got promoted really quickly, and I was super proud of my work, but…”

Sokka’s face twists.

“The whole time, I thought my project was being funded because of its conservation applications. I was so fucking _stupid_.” Sokka says hoarsely. “Of course it was going to be weaponized. The Mechanist is basically built on military funding and I was just so excited to work there, I didn’t even think twice about what that meant. I didn’t save any forests, or help anybody. I just made it easier to blow people up remotely.”

“You didn’t know,” Zuko says quietly.

“I should have guessed,” Sokka snaps. “People are dead because of what _I_ built.”

“…That’s rough, buddy.”

Sokka lifts his head up to stare at Zuko.

“You are terrible at pep talks.”

“I know,” Zuko says with a wince. “But I also think you’re being way too hard on yourself.”

Sokka makes a sound of indignation, but Zuko holds up a hand.

“You ever heard of Sozin Industries?” Zuko asks.

“Oh, yeah, that tech company that turned out to be a total sham? It was like they took all of Enron’s worst ideas and went even harder. Did you work… wait, didn’t you say _your_ last name was Sozin?”

Zuko nods.

“Holy shit, Ozai Sozin is your _dad_?”

“Was,” Zuko corrects, trying not to flinch at the sound of his father’s name. “He’s dead now. Maybe. I think he might have faked it.”

Sokka goggles at him.

“Anyway,” Zuko says quickly. “My dad did a lot of shady stuff. And not just at work, either. He… well, it’s a long story but suffice it to say a lot of people were hurt by what he did. But not everyone who worked for him was complicit. My dad made the _choice_ to lie to people, and some people knew about it, but most didn’t. They just wanted to work — either because they were passionate about the technology, or just because they wanted to keep a roof over their heads.”

Sokka sighs heavily.

“I get what you’re saying, and I appreciate it,” he says slowly. “I just feel like I can’t undo the damage I caused. Just because I stopped working there doesn’t mean they’re going to stop using what I built.”

Zuko ponders this for a long time. Sokka gets out of the pool to grab the vape pen and take another drag, but Zuko demurs, wanting to keep a clear head.

They pass another hour in silence, rotating between the pool and the shade of the umbrella. Sokka swims a few laps while Zuko stares at the ocean, lost in thought. Eventually the sun sets, and Sokka turns to Zuko with a sheepish expression.

“Hey, I’m sorry I made shit weird.”

Zuko starts.

“You didn’t,” Zuko tries to reassure him.

“Yeah, I did,” Sokka replies heavily. “I’ve been a real downer for the past year.”

“Have you talked to anyone about it? Like a therapist?”

Sokka eyes him with a wary expression.

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

“I don’t know,” Sokka mumbles. “Therapy isn’t really a thing where I’m from.”

“Me neither,” Zuko says with a shrug. “But it helps.”

Sokka looks slightly cheered by this.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks… thanks for saying that.”

“Sure,” Zuko says lightly. “And not to overstep, but I’ve got some ideas.”

Sokka grins.

“Try me.”

“Well, clearly you’re a great engineer. I mean, The Mechanist may not have been the dream company you thought it was, but they’re still at the peak of technology. You can get a job anywhere you want if you’ve worked for them. You can find another company that really _does_ match your ideals.”

“Thought of that,” Sokka says ruefully. “But it’s harder than you think. A company isn’t a person. Money is money, and sometimes even the best inventions can get sold out to the wrong people.”

“Fair enough,” Zuko agrees. “You could start your own company, then. Then you could definitely make sure it’s more morally aligned.”

“Start ups are crazy expensive,” Sokka shakes his head. “I can’t just _start_ a company.”

“Why not?” Zuko retorts. “You’ve got connections.”

Sokka shoots him a puzzled look. Zuko holds up his hands, gesturing to the house behind him. Sokka snorts.

“You met me _yesterday_ ,” Sokka says, shaking his head. “You can’t just invest all your money in a lifeguard beach bum.”

“I didn’t say I would,” Zuko points out. “But I know people have that kind of pull. If you care about doing the right thing and you have the skills to build new tools, why shouldn’t people invest in you? The world needs more people like that.”

Sokka seems momentarily speechless. Zuko worries that perhaps he has overstepped, so he continues speaking to try to relieve the tension.

“But it’s a lot of work to start a company, and it won’t necessarily stop the bad ones. Which made me think of another option: politics.”

Sokka’s eyes widen.

“Politics?”

“It definitely wouldn’t be my first choice,” Zuko says. “But I’m not exactly a people person. You are. Or at least, you seem like it. You’ve got strong ideals and you care about others. If you don’t think these companies are conducting themselves fairly — if there needs to be more oversight, or regulation — you could make that happen. If you can’t stop them from the inside, go over their heads.”

“Zuko, I’m a twenty-five-year old lifeguard. Who the hell would vote for me for… _anything_?”

“It’s definitely the slowest road to change,” Zuko nods in agreement. “It’s not like you can just run around changing laws and stuff right away. But you could build up to it. You mention your community in the South Pole a lot, and I bet they would trust you to represent their interests. Plus, you are really attractive. People always vote for the hot candidate.”

Zuko can’t quite believe his own daring for saying this out loud, but he is proud of himself for not blushing too much. Sokka’s slightly shocked expression twists into a grin.

“You think I’m hot?”

“It’s more like an objective fact that you’re hot,” Zuko says, fidgeting slightly.

Sokka lets out a bark of laughter.

“Hah! Hot guy thinks I’m hot,” Sokka says with a grin. 

Zuko’s stomach swoops, but before he can think too much about this, Sokka barrels on. 

“Wanna get some dinner?”

“Oh,” Zuko stutters. “Uh, sure. I can order in — I don’t think I should walk far on my foot and I’m a terrible cook.”

“Me too,” Sokka admits. “But I can order it since you paid for lunch.”

“No, I insist,” Zuko interrupts. “And we’re getting Thai food, and we’re not going to fight about money.”

Sokka gives Zuko a lazy grin, lying back in the deck chair.

“Cool. Hey, thanks for letting me hang out here all afternoon. And for the life advice.”

Zuko feels his face heat.

“You can ignore it,” he says quickly. “I didn’t mean to be so nosy.”

“Nah, it was nice,” Sokka says, still grinning over at Zuko. “I’m the plan guy, remember? Only I haven’t really had one for the last year. I was starting to feel… sort of lost, really. Felt like it didn’t really _matter_ if I had a plan. Working at The Mechanist had been my big plan and it failed spectacularly. Don’t get me wrong — I still don’t really know what I’m going to do when the summer is over, and it seems… not smart to be making life decisions while I’m kind of high, but it was… nice of you. You’re really cool, Zuko.”

This last statement is said with a fondness that makes Zuko’s heart squeeze against his ribs. He tries to remind himself that Sokka is slightly inebriated — of _course_ he was going to sound a bit dazed and affectionate — but it doesn’t dull the feeling of pleasure at hearing the compliment.

“Well, you’ve known me for twenty-four hours now,” Zuko jokes. “Don’t worry, the illusion of cool will fade quickly at this point.”

“I don’t think so,” Sokka disagrees. “Besides, cool people never think they’re cool. That’s what makes them cool.”

“I’m guessing the weed just hit you again?”

“Yeah, man,” Sokka says, his grin turning slightly hazy. “This is some good stuff. But don’t let me have any more after this, okay? I gotta drive home eventually.”

Zuko can’t resist joining Sokka for one last hit. He pulls the vapor deep into his lungs, feeling his muscles start to relax again.

“You can always crash here if you need,” Zuko offers.

“See? Being a cool guy again. You just can’t help it.”

“I’m not being _cool_ ,” Zuko sulks. “It’s just basic public safety.”

“Yeah, and that’s cool in my book. C’mon,” Sokka adds, hoisting himself from his chair. “Let’s prepare ourselves for Thai food. These swim trunks definitely don’t have enough give for eating a proper meal.”

“Yeah, but they look great.”

Zuko really has no excuse for this comment. Weed might make him slightly less high-strung than usual, but it doesn’t make him say stuff usually. His inability to keep his mouth shut is a problem most of the time, and it seems to only be worse after having been in relative solitude for so long.

Sokka, fortunately, does not seem to notice the unspoken desire behind the compliment.

“Thanks!” he says, pulling on the fabric of the shorts. “My sister Katara got them for me. She thought the pattern looked like boomerangs. I think it kind looks more like a hockey stick. Either way, I thought it was cool.”

Zuko just barely refrains from correcting Sokka that he meant to compliment the way the shorts hugged the curve of his ass, not the pattern of the fabric, but he’s distracted by watching Sokka stretch out his arms.

“Okay, I’m carrying you inside now.”

“Noooo,” Zuko moans, embarrassed. “I can walk, Sokka.”

“Just let me do it!”

“Sokka…”

“Please?”

“Why do you want to carry me so bad?”

“It’s fun!”

The weed kicks in fully and Zuko cannot think of a response to contradict Sokka.

“Okay.”

“Awesome. I’m taking you up the stairs!”

“Wait, bad idea! Bad idea!”

Despite Zuko’s protests, they make it safely around the house. Their movements are a little disjointed — they keep forgetting why they entered a particular room — so it takes twenty minutes for both of them to get fully changed and settled on the couch. The Thai delivery arrives just in time, and they settle down to watch some comic book movie of Sokka’s recommendation. Zuko usually isn’t a fan of these types of films — he is, after all, someone who refers to movies as _films_ — but Sokka provides entertaining commentary, and Zuko feels so content that he find himself smiling absently at the screen.

Sokka insists on carrying Zuko up to bed. Zuko really should protest — he’s sober by that point in the night, and his foot is less swollen than earlier — but he can’t quite make himself. He can’t quite make himself stop thinking about Sokka after he leaves, either. He rummages around in his bedside table for a bit until he finds what he wants. One fantasy about Sokka wouldn’t hurt, right? Even if it fuels the best orgasm Zuko has had in weeks, there’s probably no harm in it. After all, Zuko knows Sokka will get bored of him eventually. Zuko’s foot will heal up fully and they both would get back to their regular lives. 

So it was okay that Zuko indulged in another fantasy of Sokka when he woke up the next morning. It wasn’t a problem that he imagined Sokka’s hand’s on him, Sokka grinning as he pressed inside him, Sokka whispering filthy things in his ear. It was just a fantasy, and Zuko had no illusions that he would ever get the real thing anyway. Just a daydream, plain and simple.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little bit shorter, but the last two chapters will be coming soon!

About six hours after Zuko has indulged himself in his third extremely graphic fantasy about Sokka — and _wow_ , Zuko had not expected to come that hard in the shower — his phone buzzes.

_Sokka: Hey man, how’s the foot today? (2:13PM)_

Zuko tells his traitorous heart to stop pounding so hard, but as usual, his emotions seem to be in charge rather than his brain.

_Zuko: Still swollen. Mostly sitting around all day. Not too painful though (2:14PM)_

Zuko stares at his phone like a lovesick fool while he waits for the flashing three dots to turn into a text. Instead, they disappear, and Zuko feels a stab of disappointment. 

He turns back to his computer where he is trying — and failing — to focus on the wording of a particularly tricky passage. He’s been trying for ages to phrase it just _so_ , but the syntax is still too convoluted. Frustrated, he glances at his phone again. His heart leaps.

_Sokka: Want some company? (2:21PM)_

Zuko doesn’t hesitate.

_Zuko: Yeah, sure. Come over whenever. (2:25PM)_

Sokka replies much faster this time, and Zuko tries not to read into it too much.

_Sokka: Sweet. I promised my sister we’d have ‘bonding time’ this afternoon but I can probably ditch out in a bit (2:26PM)_

_Zuko: You can invite her over too if you want. (2:27PM)_

_Zuko: I mean I don’t want to interrupt bonding time. I can make myself scarce (2:28PM)_

Zuko thumps his head down onto his desk, wishing he could recall his message. It was super weird and desperate to offer to host people and then promise not to interact with them. Zuko realizes he’s probably a little more lonely than he’s been letting on.

_Sokka: That would be awesome, actually. Her boyfriend is here, too, but they’re both super stoked to meet you (2:29PM)_

_Sokka: I may have told them you got me thinking about getting back into engineering (2:29PM)_

_Sokka: My sister might give you a really big unsolicited hug just FYI (2:30PM)_

_Zuko: I’ll prepare myself accordingly (2:31PM)_

_Sokka: Sweet, be there soon (2:32PM)_

Zuko’s preparations are hampered by his still-swollen foot, but he does his best to make the place a little more guest-friendly. He puts towels outside to warm in the sun, and throws a few more drinks into the fridge. He finally gets around to sweeping up the sand he had tracked in two days prior after his stingray injury. He tries to rationalize with himself that there’s no reason to be nervous — even though he had been pretty isolated recently, it wasn’t like he was totally inept at talking to people — but he hears when Sokka’s beat-up Honda roll past the front gate, Zuko realizes it’s not the addition of Sokka’s sister and her boyfriend that he’s worried about. 

Agni, why did Zuko have to get a crush on the one person who seemed to want to hang out with him?

“Hey, Zuko!” Sokka’s voice rings throughout the house. “Where you at?”

“Out here,” Zuko calls back. He hobbles over from the small lawn where he has dragged out two cornhole boards. He had never actually used them before, as they had been purchased for the use of the usual summer vacationers that would rent out the house. When Zuko had been a child visiting with his familiy, the only real fun that had been allowed was out on the beach. Ozai had always wanted the house to be quiet for his important business calls.

Sokka steps through the enormous glass doors onto the back patio. He is outfitted in the same swim trunks as the day before, and he is already shirtless. Zuko swallows thickly.

“Good to see you walking around,” Sokka says with a lopsided grin. He gives Zuko one of those one-armed, half-hugs that people their age seem so fond of. Zuko is fine with it; if he’s already this flustered by a half-hug, he doesn’t want to imagine what his face would look like if Sokka really squeezed him.

Sokka seems unaware of the effect his broad, tanned chest has on Zuko and he turns to motion to his companions.

“This is my sister, Katara, and her boyfriend, Aang.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zuko says automatically.

“Thank you for having us over,” Katara says politely. She has the same brilliant blue eyes as Sokka, which are accentuated by her teal bikini top and blue wrap skirt. Like Sokka, she has forgone a shirt in anticipation of swimming. Zuko wonders if everyone in their family is this attractive; certainly Sokka and Katara had been genetically blessed.

“Cool place!” gushes Aang, who is lanky and covered in simple, geometric tattoos. One stretches up his back and onto his shaved head, a big blue arrow pointing down towards his eyebrows. It is certainly a distinctive look, but Zuko thinks it works for him.

“Make yourselves at home,” Zuko says.

Sokka is already digging through the fridge.

“Sokka, don’t steal all of Zuko’s food,” Katara chastises. “You’re making us look bad.”

“It’s okay,” Zuko says quickly. “I owe him.”

“No, you don’t,” Sokka frowns as he pokes his head back from the fridge. “If anything, I owe you more tacos.”

“You literally carried me to my bed last night.”

Zuko realizes too late how this sounds, and Katara and Aang exchange an amused look.

“Because of my foot,” Zuko amends quickly. “It was way more swollen yesterday, and…”

“Did you see the stingray?” Aang interrupts eagerly. “Was it big?”

“Er, no,” Zuko says, slightly thrown by Aang’s enthusiasm. He is not used to having people so interested in what he had to say. “If I had seen it, I probably wouldn’t have stepped on it.”

“Oh, that’s a good point,” Aang says, deflating slightly. His excitement is only dimmed for a second, however, before he eagerly starts to explore the yard. “Hey, you’ve got cornhole! Katara, wanna play with me?”

Katara looks bemused as she follows Aang out onto the lawn. Sokka arrives, his arms laden with beers, chips, and salsa. Zuko frowns.

“Where did you find the chips? I ran out two days ago.”

“I brought them,” Sokka replies. “I’m not showing up empty-handed. Got some extra salsa, too — I saw you had the super spicy stuff in your fridge yesterday and the rest of us are all wimps. You can take us out of the South Pole, but…”

“Thanks,” Zuko says. “But you didn’t have to.”

“It’s just chips, Zuko! C’mon, let’s go kick some ass at cornhole. You’re on my team.”

“You might regret that decision.”

It turns out, Zuko is much better at the game than he anticipated. He may not have played it much before, but Zuko had had plenty of experience in activities that relied on depth perception. His extensive physical therapy after his facial injury had improved his hand-eye coordination even beyond what it had been before. Of course, Zuko would trade his cornhole skills for a less scarred face in a heartbeat, but it did feel pretty good to hear Sokka’s gleeful whoops as Zuko sank beanbag after beanbag to score points.

It is a glorious Ember Island afternoon. There is hardly a cloud in the sky, and just enough of a breeze to not be sweltering hot. After several rounds of cornhole and much good-natured squabbling between Sokka and Katara over the scoring, the group moves to the pool to cool off. Zuko doesn’t swim around for very long. His foot has swollen up again from standing, so he hauls himself onto a lounge chair to elevate it. He’s a little embarrassed at how much the others fuss over him. Katara brings him an icepack and sets up a more comfortable resting set up for his foot, while Aang rearranges the pool umbrellas to form a perfect cocoon of shade around him. Sokka, however, just moves the salsa within Zuko’s reach and jumps back in the pool.

“Zuko is our host,” Katara reminds her brother. “Maybe you could do more for him than just bring him salsa?”

“You’re the doctor,” Sokka points out.

“I don’t start medical school until September, Sokka. You know just as much about basic first aid as I do.”

“Yeah, so I know that you’ve basically got it under control. Besides, Zuko will tell us if he needs help, right, Zuko?”

Zuko, who is bad about asking for help when he needs it, nods anyway.

“Well,” Katara says teasingly. “If you want to beat Aang and me at cornhole again, you’re going to need your teammate. You really should take care of him.”

“Excellent point,” Sokka says with a laugh. “Zuko, buddy, I’m taking you to the hospital, stat.”

The conversation between the siblings turns back into cornhole-related trash talk. Aang pulls himself out of the pool to grab a snack next to Zuko.

“It was really nice of you to invite us over,” Aang says happily. “I thought we’d go to the beach more on Katara’s off days, but since it’s where she works, sometimes it’s a little distracting. Usually she ends up finding people who need help and we spend the afternoon rescuing them instead of having fun.”

“That’s really nice of you guys to help people,” Zuko points out.

“Oh, yeah, I’m not complaining! We both like feeling useful when people need help. But it’s good to have a day to goof off, too, y’know?”

“Well, you guys can come over whenever you want,” Zuko says with a shrug. “It’s not like I need a big house all to myself.”

“Sokka was right about you,” Aang says with a grin. 

Zuko feels his stomach tighten.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, he said you were really chill.”

“No one has ever called me ‘chill’ in my whole life.”

“I think he meant that you were friendly.”

“Also not an adjective people use to describe me.”

“How about ‘not-a-jerk’?”

“Hm, debatable.”

Aang throws up his hands in exasperation, but he is still smiling.

“Sokka seems to think you’re an alright guy. And he’s been having a really tough time lately. You didn’t have to be nice to him, and you were. So thanks for that.”

Zuko feels himself go red.

“It’s nothing,” Zuko says quickly. “Sokka was the one who was nice to me first.”

“Well, any friend of Sokka’s is a friend of mine!” Aang says, still with the same grin. Zuko wonders if this kid ever stops smiling, but it’s rather nice to be around someone so relentlessly cheerful.

Aang jumps up to perform an elaborate dive into the pool, which quickly turns into a diving competition between Sokka, Katara, and Aang. Aang seems particularly set on impressing his girlfriend. Aang is performing an extended handstand when Sokka walks over to Zuko’s lounge chair, water dripping from every inch of exposed skin. Zuko hopes his sunglasses hide just how much his eyes are raking over Sokka’s body. Sokka shakes his hair out from it’s ponytail and Zuko feels like he has been electrified. He resists the urge to tell Sokka to leave it down, and crams several chips in his mouth for good measure.

“So,” Zuko says finally, swallowing down his chips. “How long have Aang and Katara been together?”

“Like ten years.”

“What? Aren’t they younger than us?”

“Yeah, Katara is twenty-four and Aang is twenty-three.”

“And they’ve been dating that long?”

“Yeah, crazy, right? Longest relationship I’ve ever had was like, nine months.”

Zuko desperately wants more information about this, but he is interrupted by the splash of Aang’s final dive. Katara applauds as he surfaces.

“Thanks for letting us come over,” Sokka says quietly. “It’s been kind of weird at home. I think Aang is working up the nerve to propose to Katara.”

“Wow. That’s big.”

“Yeah. And I want them to have their space, but I also know this is the last summer I’ll have to hang out with my sister.”

“It’s really nice you guys are so close.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Sokka peers at Zuko over the top of his sunglasses.

“Yeah. A sister. Same age as Katara, actually. But we’re not close.”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that.”

Zuko shrugs. The history with him and Azula — their competitive childhood, her struggles with mental illness as a teenager, their estrangement after their father’s death — is difficult enough to talk about when he’s in the safety of his therapist’s office. Discussing it here and now, in the bright light of Ember Island, seems almost impossible to contemplate. Zuko forces himself to eat another chip even though he’s really not hungry.

“You said Aang is just visiting for a bit?” Zuko says once the knot in his stomach unclenches.

“Yeah, for the next week. And he’ll be back later this summer, too, so maybe he’ll do it then. Or maybe I’m just reading into it too much. But the timing would make sense. Med school is a lot of work, but Katara will know her schedule for the next two years, so they could plan a wedding or whatever. And Aang does a lot of free-lancing gigs, so being married to someone in medical school might be a good idea to get him better health insurance.”

“Wow, you really are the ‘plan guy’ aren’t you?”

Sokka laughs.

“Nothing wrong with being practical,” he says with a smile.

“Some might argue it’s less romantic.”

“What’s not romantic about having a plan?” Sokka protests. “It means you care enough to think about it in advance.”

“That’s… actually a pretty good point.”

Sokka smirks.

“Well, most of my exes would agree that I’m actually _not_ very romantic, but it’s not my fault that anniversaries are hard to remember.”

“I thought you said your longest relationship was nine months.”

“Yeah, but I had more than one girl break up with me because I forgot our one-month anniversary. And another girl who was mad I didn’t do anything for our one-week anniversary. That was in high school. I sort of forgot we were ‘dating’ because all we did was hold hands in robotics club.”

Zuko’s heart sinks at the mention of multiple ex-girlfriends. Of course Sokka was straight. Zuko had a bad habit of falling for straight men, gay women, and emotionally-unavailable assholes of various gender identities. He really knew how to spot the one thing he couldn’t have to set himself up for disappointment.

Zuko tries to shake it off, realizing the silence between them has lasted a beat too long.

“Robotics club?” he says finally. “You were a real nerd, huh?”

“Hey, robots are cool!” Sokka protests. “And let me guess, you were a… theater kid?”

“No,” Zuko pouts. “Worse. I _wanted_ to be a theater kid and my dad wouldn’t let me.”

“What a fucking tool.”

Zuko snorts so hard his sunglasses almost fall off. Sokka looks very proud of himself for making Zuko laugh.

“Yeah, he was a tool,” Zuko agrees. “He wanted me to go to business school.”

“And now you’re an author!” Sokka says with a wide smile.

“Well, trying to be,” Zuko mumbles, a little embarrassed.

“You will be,” Sokka says with confidence.

“You don’t know that. You’ve never read anything I’ve written.”

“Not yet,” Sokka amends. “But you said you would let me when you were finished.”

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Yes, I do. And you said earlier you owed me one. I wasn’t going to cash it in — a real gentleman carries another gentleman to bed and expects nothing in return — but if I have to be ungentlemanly, so be it. I’m reading that book.”

Zuko wants to protest, but the look of challenge on Sokka’s face stops him. Before he can come up with a response, Katara and Aang join them.

“Zuko, we brought some stuff to cook dinner if that’s okay with you,” Katara says. “Sokka said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Zuko says, surprised. “I’m not really a good cook, though.”

“Aang and I have it covered,” Katara says with a smile. “Although you might want to supervise Sokka. He said he’d be in charge of the meat.”

“I can handle making burgers on the grill, Katara,” Sokka grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I’m not _that_ inept.”

“The fire extinguisher is under the kitchen sink,” Zuko says in a stage whisper to Aang.

Sokka lets out a huff of indignation, but Aang and Katara laugh. Sokka flashes Zuko a quick smile and claps a hand to his shoulder before rising to get supplies from the kitchen. Zuko tries and fails not to think about the warmth of Sokka’s hand on his bare skin.

It is by far the most pleasant evening Zuko has had in his entire stay at Ember Island. He had certainly enjoyed his past two nights with Sokka alone, but Katara and Aang make good dinner companions, and it’s nice that Zuko’s foot doesn’t hurt so much any more. Katara inquires politely about it halfway through their meal, and Zuko mentions that his foot is slightly swollen due to his seated position. Without a word, Sokka reaches under the table and grab’s Zuko’s calf, lifting Zuko’s foot onto his lap. Zuko sits with his leg resting over Sokka’s knees for the next hour, trying not to fidget too much. 

_He’s straight,_ Zuko tries to remind himself.

_Whatever, your foot is in a hot guy’s lap,_ another voice argues. _This is the most action you’re going to get all summer_.

Sokka, for his part, seems entirely oblivious to Zuko’s glances, and spends most of the evening recounting several amusing stories to the rest of the group. Zuko is impressed by Sokka’s ability to captivate an audience — he knows just when to pause to get a laugh, or how to weave in a small tangent to enhance the larger narrative. Zuko can sense his crush growing with every new tale, but he just sits quietly and laughs along with Katara and Aang.

Zuko’s spirits sink as his guests start to yawn and clean up the remains of their dinner. Tomorrow Sokka would return to his lifeguard duties and Zuko would be alone again. Zuko knows he should be grateful for the brief change of pace, so he tries not to mope too much at the thought of going back to his bunker of solitude.

Zuko is loading the dishwasher as Sokka arrives with a bouquet of silverware.

“I’m working the afternoon shift for the next few days,” Sokka says as he shoves forks into the dishwasher. “But if you want to hang out again, I’ve got Monday off.”

Zuko blinks at Sokka, surprised.

“Oh,” he says faintly. “Sure.”

“Great!” 

Sokka flashes Zuko a grin that makes his belly tighten with want. Spending more time with Sokka was probably a bad idea, but Zuko can’t help it. Not a lot of people volunteer to spend time with him, even if Zuko is pretty sure his beach house is a big part of his allure to Sokka. Still, Zuko wasn’t about to turn Sokka down. Surely he could keep his crush quiet for a while — it would be worth it to have a friend for once in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Zuko had vastly underestimated the amount of time he would spend with Sokka over the next several weeks.

At first, their interactions had been sparse. Zuko had gone back to his usual routine of daily walks and work out sessions in the home gym in the basement. There were enough lifeguards on duty at the beach that Zuko had not run into Sokka again until several days had passed. He was pleased that Sokka had not only given him another one-armed hug in greeting, but had confirmed their tentative plans for the following day. Sokka’s off days were few and far between, so Zuko had to wait impatiently, hoping that Sokka would want to spend his precious free time with him.

In Sokka’s absence, Zuko notices how quiet and empty the house is. Even the weather seems a bit less festive; it’s still sunny and warm, but it seems perfunctory rather than celebratory. All of this frustrates Zuko. He barely knows Sokka and it seemed silly to fall into such a funk over him.

Zuko calls his uncle as he usually does, and right away Iroh notices Zuko’s gloomy mood.

“Nephew, is something the matter?”

“I’m fine, uncle. It’s just… quiet around here, is all.”

“You are still being visited by your handsome friend, yes?”

“His name is Sokka, uncle. And he’s busy.”

“Oh, that is a shame,” Iroh says with compassion. “I know that you are fond of him.”

Zuko feels his face heat.

“Yeah. Sokka is nice,” Zuko mumbles. “But he’s got work, and I know he wants to spend time with his sister, too. I don’t want to bother him.”

“From what you told me of him, Sokka is not a shy person, correct?”

“Um, no,” Zuko says, slightly puzzled. “He’s pretty outgoing.”

“Then he will tell you if he does not have time to spend with you,” Iroh reasons. “But he is not a mind reader, Zuko. If you wish to spend time with him, you should tell him you are interested. There is nothing wrong in asking someone if they would like to become friends.”

“Yeah, but…” Zuko hesitates. “I might like him as more than a friend.”

“Wonderful!” Iroh says happily.

“Uncle,” Zuko says sternly. “Sokka doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know? Did you ask him?”

“Well, no,” Zuko says, feeling mildly irritated by his uncle’s relentless optimism. “But he’s straight.”

“You know very well that sexuality can be quite fluid, nephew. If you two have a true connection…”

“Uncle, please,” Zuko interrupts. Just because he wants to be honest with his uncle doesn’t mean he’s comfortable sharing the details of his unrequited crush. 

“Very well,” Iroh sighs. “If it is too painful for you to spend time with this man given your feelings, that is very understandable. But if you desire his friendship, there is nothing wrong with asking for it. You said he was from the South Pole, yes? Perhaps he is lonely on Ember Island.”

“His sister is here, too.”

“Perhaps you can befriend both of them?” Iroh suggests. “Two friends can be even better than one.”

Zuko sighs. There’s no arguing with his uncle sometimes.

“Okay, uncle,” he says finally. “I’ll try to make friends.”

“That is excellent news, nephew. I wish you great success. Just be yourself, and the world will open to you.”

“Yeah,” Zuko mutters sarcastically. “Because being myself has always worked out great for me.”

“Do not say such things, nephew,” Iroh says sharply. “For much of your life, you tried very hard to be someone you were not, and it brought you great suffering. Do you not think you have been happier since you moved past the expectations of your father?”

“Yes,” Zuko says without hesitation. “But it’s not like I’ve made a lot of friends since then.”

“That is because you work too hard,” Iroh chides him. “And you never let me set you up on dates! I met a very nice young woman at the shop yesterday — she had very beautiful tattoos that she had done herself. An artist, like you, nephew! But perhaps I should hold off on arranging a date for you until you have tested things out with your lifeguard friend.”

“He’s straight, uncle,” Zuko repeats through gritted teeth. “And please stop trying to fix me up with someone. I’m fine.”

“I am keeping her number for you, just in case.”

“Okay, uncle,” Zuko sighs wearily. “Fine.”

“Speaking of work, how is your book coming?”

“It’s getting there,” Zuko says, happy for the change in subject. “I should be able to make the deadline.”

“Wonderful, nephew. I look forward to reading your work with great anticipation.”

“Thank you, uncle,” Zuko says softly. 

“Nephew, I must apologize, but a shipment of ginseng has just arrived, and —“

“It’s okay, uncle. It was nice to talk to you.”

“I wish you luck in your friendships, nephew. Remember to be yourself.”

“Thanks, uncle. I’ll call you next week.”

“Goodbye, Zuko.”

Zuko paces around the house for the next hour, composing and deleting a text to Sokka. Iroh always made it sound so easy — _be yourself_ , as if Zuko had even known or accepted who he really was before a few years ago — but Zuko _did_ trust his uncle’s advice. Iroh had a full life with many friends, so clearly he was doing something right. 

_Zuko: Hey, do you want to come over after your shift and get tacos? Katara can come too if she wants to join. (1:37PM)_

No wonder it was taking Zuko forever to finish his manuscript: composing the text to Sokka had taken him fifty-four minutes, and deciding to press send had added an extra fourteen. 

Zuko is surprisingly productive for the rest of the afternoon. He knows that Sokka cannot check his personal phone while on duty, so Zuko buries his own phone in the couch cushions and settles himself at his writing desk. He’s actually quite happy with how his read-through is going. Perhaps he would be finished even before his deadline.

Zuko checks his phone as the sun starts to set and is disappointed that there’s no answer. He tries to get back to work, but he’s restless from sitting all day. He decides to go on a run instead of a walk, and he takes off down the beach, headphones blasting his favorite playlist from his teenage emo phase.

It’s hot enough that Zuko forgoes a shirt, which is always a mixed bag for him. Zuko is not so self-deprecating that he is unaware that his body looks good. He was rather proud of being in good shape; it felt good to be strong and to trust his strength. The downside of being shirtless is that it made people’s reactions to Zuko’s face more obvious. He would catch someone’s gaze sliding up the plane of his chest, their interest clear in their expression, until they lifted their heads to see the large scar marring the left side of his face. Their faces would fall in shock or disgust, and they would quickly look away. Zuko was used to it by now, but it still stung. It was part of the reason he spent so much time alone in his house; if no one looked at him, no one could be disappointed in what they saw.

The advantage of running is that he is going too fast to catch anyone else’s reaction to his looks. The longer he runs, the more he feels the tension between his shoulder blades dissipate. He runs along the packed sand along the shore, careful to avoid the surf. He still shivers remembering the feeling of the stingray’s barb under his skin. He’s not taking any chances today. He decides to run laps on the smaller beach; no need to try to navigate the rocks where stingrays might lurk in the shallow waters of the rising tide.

The sun sets fully, and still Zuko’s phone remains devoid of texts. He keeps running, the angry music fueling his pounding legs. He can hear noise in the distance, but it’s only once he recognizes the squeal of a megaphone being turned on that he turns his head.

“Zuko! Hey, Zuko!”

Zuko stops dead. In the dim light, he spots Sokka standing on one of the lifeguard towers, waving. Zuko can hear Katara’s whispers amplified through the megaphone.

“Sokka, put that down. We’re not supposed to use it unless it’s an emergency.”

“Zuko!” Sokka continues, ignoring his sister. “C’mere, man!”

Zuko turns and shuffles through the soft sand to the lifeguard tower. Sokka scrambles down the ladder and goes to give Zuko a hearty slap on the back.

“Looking good, man!” Sokka says cheerfully. “You’ve been running laps for a while, huh? Katara didn’t believe it was you when I pointed you out.”

“He cheated,” Katara says as she jumps down to join them. “You were at the far end of the beach when we first noticed you. Sokka pulled out his binoculars to check you out.”

Zuko is sure that Katara doesn’t mean anything by this word choice, but he flushes all the same. He’s thankful the lights from the nearby parking lot aren’t strong enough to illuminate him properly.

“I just saw your text,” Sokka says quickly, shooting an inscrutable look at Katara. “Tacos sound great. I wanted to get in a quick workout first, though. I woke up late and we’ve mostly been sitting all day.”

“I can wait,” Zuko assures him. 

“You done with your run?” Sokka asks. “I could join you if you want.”

“Oh, sure,” Zuko says, trying not to stare as Sokka strips off his own shirt. Belatedly, he remembers Katara’s presence. “Do you want to join us?”

“No thanks,” Katara says with a slight smirk. “I promised I’d call Aang, and then I’m meeting some friends after. But thanks for the offer! You guys have fun.”

Sokka tosses Katara his car keys and turns towards the surf.

“Bye!” he calls to his sister. “Zuko, you’ll never guess what crazy shit happened today.”

Zuko follows Sokka down the beach as he recounts the daily dramas of the beach. Zuko feels exhilarated, although he can’t precisely figure out why. Perhaps it’s being in the thrall of Sokka’s full attention, or the adrenaline pumping through him as they race across the darkened beach. They are distracted by the excitement of the night and their laughter, and hunger sneaks up on them. Fortunately, Zuko gets decent cell service on the beach so they can order takeout to arrive at Zuko’s house when they return from their run.

When they get back to the house, Sokka eagerly steps under the outdoor shower at the edge of the lawn. It’s one of Zuko’s favorite features of the house — he frequently uses it just to stare at the stars at the end of the day. Watching Sokka step under the spray is going to spark a _lot_ of new fantasies for Zuko. He tries to go inside to give Sokka privacy but Sokka laughs at him.

“C’mon, man, there are two shower heads on this thing,” Sokka points out. “You’ll get sand all over your fancy house if you go inside.”

So Zuko ends up _taking a shower_ next to the object of his affections while said crush makes a number of distracting noises, all of which Zuko has to work hard to ignore. The first is the _aaah_ of delight as Sokka releases his hair from its band, followed by a happy _mmm_ when he smells the shampoo Zuko has left outside. The worst, however, are the two groans of pleasure Sokka makes as he stretches out his arms under the hot water. Zuko is thankful his own shower head is opposite from Sokka’s so he can hide the look on his face.

Sokka, for his part, seems unaware of the effect he has on Zuko, and tosses him a towel once he exits the shower.

“Man, I would use that thing every day if I lived here,” Sokka sighs with longing.

“You can,” Zuko points out. “If you want to use it after work, I don’t mind. If you’re sweaty from a run or something.”

Sokka’s face lights up.

“Yeah, we could go on runs together after work!” Sokka says eagerly. “Or some other workout.”

“There’s a gym here,” Zuko replies. “But it’s kind of annoying to do weights without a spotter. If you want, we could lift together.”

“That would be awesome! Honestly, I’m kind of over learning to surf. I mean, it’s fun, but I’m just… having a hard time making friends with those guys.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. “That’s weird.”

Sokka raises his eyebrows in question.

“I just meant,” Zuko hurries to explain, “that it’s weird they wouldn’t try harder to be friends with you. You’re really funny.”

The smile Sokka gives him burns brighter than the sun.

“Thanks, Zuko! Yeah, I think part of it is that all they want to talk about is surfing. Which is fine! But anytime I try to bring up anything else, they act like I’m totally weird for wanting to talk about it.”

“Like what?”

“Well, one of them mentioned having a girlfriend, so I asked about her. And he gave me this look like ‘who cares?’ and just started talking about tides again. And then another guy said his mom was sick and I asked if he needed any help and he just shrugged and told me not to worry about it.”

“That seems… really weird.”

“I guess surfing is their escape or whatever,” Sokka says with a shrug. “And that’s fine, I get it. But it’s hard to make friends with people who don’t want to tell you who they really are. That’s why I liked you right away,” Sokka adds with smile. “You were real with me.”

Zuko ducks his head. He isn’t sure what to say, but the doorbell buzzes at the arrival of their dinner. Zuko hurriedly goes to fetch it, hoping that he has not completely ruined the mood, but Sokka just gives him the same bright smile as before.

After they finish their meal — Sokka has to wait a good twenty minutes for Zuko to catch up to his speed-eating — Zuko leans back in his chair and takes a deep breath.

“I’ve always had trouble making friends,” Zuko admits. “Things were always… difficult with my family, especially after my mom died. And even though things are better for me now, I just… never really learned how to make friends.”

“I’ll be your friend,” Sokka says easily, as if this weren’t a life-changing thing to offer. “And Katara and Aang, too.”

“Are you allowed to offer friendship on someone else’s behalf?”

Sokka shrugs.

“Aang would make friends with a tree if he could. And Katara will be friends with you as long as you’re nice to Aang, and it’s impossible to be mean to Aang. So there you go: three friends for the price of one. And I think you’d like Toph and Suki, too, but neither of them can visit until the end of summer. So five friends!”

Zuko basks in the warm feeling settling over him. Sokka and Zuko stare out at the moonlit waves crashing in the distance.

“Thanks, Sokka,” he says finally. “That would be nice. To be friends. With you.”

Sokka smiles and checks his watch.

“Well, as much as I’d love to stay and bro down with you —“ Zuko winces slightly at this phrasing — “I’ve got the early shift tomorrow. I’ll be done at like three, though. You down to hang?”

“Sure,” Zuko says. “I’ll leave the gate open.”

“Sweet.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, right,” Sokka says sheepishly. “Forgot I gave Katara the car. Do you mind?”

“No problem,” Zuko says, and they head out together. 

After Zuko drops Sokka off at his place across town, he drives home blasting upbeat K-pop to match his mood. He’s not sure he can quite believe the promise of five friends, but even one — especially if that one is Sokka — is more than enough.

Friendship is even better than Zuko anticipated. A casualness develops between him an Sokka, and more often than not, Sokka shows up unannounced at the end of the day, eager for a workout or meal or combination of both. Zuko enjoys these spontaneous visits. It serves as an almost-daily proof that Sokka likes him —if not exactly in the same _way_ Zuko likes Sokka — at least enough to spend time with him.

The casualness bleeds into every aspect of their friendship. Sokka reaches over and steal bites of food off Zuko’s plate when he isn’t looking, or gives him a friendly slap on the back when he gets up to grab another beer. For his part, Zuko relaxes enough to tell Sokka more about himself — bits and pieces of his estrangement with his sister, but also the love he has for his uncle. He even lets Sokka slather his back with sunscreen if they go on an afternoon run together. Zuko always reciprocates, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt knowing that he has imagined rubbing Sokka down in this way plenty of times without the threat of ultraviolet radiation present.

He keeps his crush under wraps, and he has no illusions that anything will come of it. He hopes that time will fade his longing for Sokka, but if anything it grows stronger. This worries Zuko. He really doesn’t want to creep out his closest and perhaps only friend, but he can’t seem to turn Sokka away.

Eventually, Sokka starts to spend the night at Zuko’s when he has an early shift. Zuko had been hesitant to offer — it seemed like a dangerous escalation for his feelings for Sokka — but Sokka had been complaining about the early wake up call, and it had just slipped out.

“There are three guest rooms,” Zuko had told Sokka. “You could always crash if you wanted.”

“Zuko, you are a life saver,” Sokka had mumbled, facedown in the couch.

“Can you even make it to a bed right now?”

“No,” came the muffled reply. “Carry me.”

Zuko wasn’t sure what came over him, but the next thing he knew, he was hoisting Sokka up and onto his shoulder, a mirror of the fireman’s carry Sokka had performed when Zuko’s foot had been injured.

“Dude!”

“You told me to carry you.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Damn, you’re strong.”

“You work out with me like three times a week, Sokka.”

“Well, if you’re going to carry me around like this, I’m never leaving your house again.”

“Fine by me.”

He had dropped Sokka unceremoniously onto a bed. Sokka had looked up at him, a curious yet intense expression on his face. Zuko had been unsure what to make of it, so he had quickly pointed out where the guest towels were and hurried up to his own bedroom. 

It was probably really crossing a line to jerk off thinking about one’s friend when said friend was crashing in the downstairs guest room, but Zuko figures it’s the only way to get it out of his system. It doesn’t work — he still has absolutely filthy dreams about Sokka — and he’s hard and aching when he wakes up the next morning. He can hear Sokka foraging around in the kitchen, and Zuko groans quietly before taking himself in hand again. It’s probably his most detailed fantasy yet: Sokka rushes up the stairs, declares his feelings for Zuko, and falls into bed with him. By Zuko’s standards, it’s a pretty tame daydream, sex-wise, but the addition of Sokka’s imagined declaration of longing makes Zuko come so hard he arches off of the bed.

His face is slightly pink with embarrassment when he finally makes it downstairs, but Sokka doesn’t seem to notice. He is grumpily poking at the coffee maker, a bagel shoved in his mouth so both hands are free to tinker.

“Oh, sorry,” Zuko rasps. “That thing’s been broken for a few days. Don’t know what I did wrong.”

Sokka mumbles something around his bagel and a few seconds later, the machine blinks to life.

“Fixed it,” Sokka says with a hint of pride.

“Thanks,” Zuko says. “I guess it’s nice having an engineer around.”

“Thanks for letting me crash, man. Super convenient not to have to get up at the crack of dawn to get over to this side of town.”

“No problem,” Zuko says with a shrug. “Really, you can stay whenever you want. I don’t mind.”

It becomes a pattern that Zuko both loves and hates. The evenings where Sokka stays over are the best nights of the week — they eat takeout and watch movies and float in the hot tub — but Zuko feels increasingly guilty about his feelings for Sokka. The fantasies get even more powerful and peppered with new details: how Sokka looks when he’s just woken up, the way Sokka stretches his muscled arms in the morning, the sound of him humming in the shower. Zuko ends up doing a lot of furtive masturbation, which he feels badly about, but he also can’t seem to stop himself from doing.

Sokka loves watching Marvel superhero movies, and he embarks on a self-imposed mission to educate Zuko by going through every single one together. Zuko finds the movies mildly entertaining, but what he really likes is watching Sokka’s reactions. Although Sokka has seen each film several times, he still whoops with glee when the good guys win and curses out the villains. They are halfway through _Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume 2_ when Zuko finds himself drifting off. He and Sokka had enjoyed a particularly long run on the beach, and now the Vietnamese takeout in his belly was lulling him to sleep.

He’s not sure how long he’s asleep, but he wakes with a shout. His recurring nightmare — his father looming close, the smell of burning flesh, the sound of his own cries for help— echoes in his head. Zuko curls in on himself. The nightmare feels real, but he’s awake enough to see the horrified look on Sokka’s face.

The movie continues to play, bright colors swirling across the screen, as Sokka gets up and disappears. Zuko doesn’t move. He’s trying not to cry even though he knows Sokka wouldn’t mind. _He_ minds, and Zuko doesn’t want to spend another second crying over what his dad did to him.

Sokka reappears holding a cup of ice chips.

“Put these in your mouth.”

Zuko blinks at him.

“Uh, what?”

“The ice,” Sokka clarifies. “Put it in your mouth.”

Zuko, destabilized from his dream, follows orders. Sokka watches him closely for several long seconds before settling back down on the couch. Zuko waits until the ice has melted before speaking.

“Sorry about that.”

“Bad dream?” Sokka asks.

“Yeah.”

Zuko purposefully does not elaborate. Telling people about his dad is a whole _thing_ , and Zuko would rather not get into it at the moment. Sokka doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of information, but he gives Zuko’s cup a pointed look until Zuko puts another ice chip in his mouth.

“What’s the deal with the ice?” Zuko asks.

“It helps with bad dreams.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow. Sokka hastens to explain.

“When we were kids, Katara and I had a phase when we got nightmares a lot. It was after our mom died,” Sokka adds, his voice going slightly hoarse. “My dad tried to make us feel better by giving us ice cream. It worked, but then we were totally wired on sugar. So he started giving us ice chips instead.”

“That’s a major downgrade.”

Sokka gives a weak laugh.

“Yeah, I know. Katara was little enough that she believed it when my dad told her it would turn into ice cream in her tummy while she slept. I knew better but… it did help, having the ice. Distracted me from the dream. The ice was so cold, it felt so much more _real_ than the dream. I know it’s kind of weird…”

“No, that makes sense, actually,” Zuko says thoughtfully. “Distraction is a useful tool."

“Do you feel any better?” Sokka asks gently.

“Yeah,” Zuko responds. “Thanks, Sokka.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Zuko looks back up at the screen, where an intense battle appears to be taking place.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Zuko admits. “Last thing I remember, the blue lady was getting into a spaceship to find the green lady.”

Sokka pauses the movie.

“Want a recap?”

“Sure.”

Honestly, it probably would be faster to just rewind the movie given the amount of detail Sokka provides, but Zuko doesn’t mind. The terror of his dream washes away as Sokka animatedly recounts the story, acting out some of the more dramatic scenes. Zuko starts to feel more like himself again, and teases Sokka by deliberately asking stupid questions.

“So the blue lady —“

“ _Nebula_.”

“— is enemies with the raccoon guy—“

“ _Rocket_.”

“— and this relates to Thor how?”

“They haven’t met Thor yet!” Sokka says heatedly. “He’s on Asgard.”

“And they’re on Ego.”

“Well, the other guardians are. Technically Rocket and Groot are still in the spaceship.”

“And Ego is Chris Pratt’s dad and also a planet?”

“ _Starlord’s_ dad, but yeah.”

“So they’re all just sitting on his dad’s face?”

“Oh, _Spirits_ , why do you have to phrase it like _that_?” Sokka groans, pulling a face. 

Zuko keeps prodding, using the actors names instead of the characters to wind Sokka up. It takes ages for Sokka to realize Zuko is just messing him, but he doesn’t seem upset by this. In fact, he half tackles Zuko onto the couch, pulling him into a headlock for ‘ _being a jerkbender_ ’.

“What does that even mean?” Zuko asks, wrenching himself free and grabbing Sokka in return.

“It means you’re being a little shit,” Sokka says happily. “Now let me go or I’m going to be the one falling asleep on the couch. This feels more like a hug than a wrestling hold.”

“You already know what happens in the rest of the movie anyway.”

“Yeah, but you probably don’t want me all up in your personal space,” Sokka says, a hint of tension in his voice. “I get really snuggly when I fall asleep.”

“Oh,” Zuko says, loosening his grip. “I don’t mind. If you want to go to bed, that’s okay, but I don’t mind if you fall asleep on the couch. I mean, I just did.”

Sokka gives him an odd look.

“You don’t seem like a really touchy-feely kind of guy,” Sokka points out.

“I’m not usually,” Zuko says. 

He’s not really sure what else to say, but after a moment, Sokka slides down against him, his head resting on Zuko’s shoulder.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sokka mumbles. “I’m a cuddler.”

“I can carry you to bed if you’re tired,” Zuko offers. “You don’t have to sleep out here.”

“Mm, you’re warm.”

Zuko can barely focus on the movie. He weighs out his responsibilities as a friend: to let Sokka, who had helped him stave off a post-nightmare panic attack, rest peacefully on the couch, or force him to go to bed. Zuko would never dream of doing anything to take advantage of the situation, but was he already taking advantage of Sokka if he was deriving pleasure from his touch beyond just friendship? Was this wrong of him, or was this something friends did?

“Zuko,” Sokka says sleepily. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“Sorry,” Zuko says automatically. “Wait, what?”

“If you hate this, tell me to stop and I’ll go to bed.”

“I don’t hate it. It’s nice.”

“Okay, then. I’m sorry if I drool on you.”

Sokka wriggles, pressing his head into the crook of Zuko’s neck. Zuko can feel the brush of Sokka’s hair against his chin. Tentatively, he lowers his arm from the back of the couch to curl around Sokka’s shoulders. Sokka gives a little hum and shuts his eyes.

_What the fuck is happening?_ Zuko’s panicked mind shouts at him. _This is definitely not what friends do!_

_No,_ another voice says cautiously. _But Sokka is the one who initiated it…_

Zuko is alert for the rest of the movie, although he scarcely watches it. He re-examines his memories from the past few weeks under a new lens, one where Sokka might actually be interested in more than friendship. Sure, they had spent many companionable evenings together, sharing food and stories without anything more than platonic occurring. But there had been compliments and casual touches, glances that were perhaps more heated than Zuko had allowed himself to believe…

When the movie ends, Sokka wakes up enough to cajole Zuko into carrying him to bed. The sight of Sokka sprawled out on the mattress, pliant and sleepy and happy, sends Zuko sprinting up the stairs to his own room. He doesn’t sleep for a long time, wondering if he has misread things in the past, or if he was misreading things now. He wants to call Iroh for advice, but it’s late and he already knows what his uncle will say. Iroh always encouraged openness and honesty: Zuko should just ask Sokka if there was more than just friendship between them. 

Zuko tortures himself over this until he falls asleep, and wakes late the next morning. Sokka is already gone for work, and Zuko kicks himself at having lost what would probably be his best chance. He can’t imagine bringing up the snuggling again. What was he supposed to do, stop in the middle of their weightlifting session later to ask _“hey, are you straight? Because I’m not, and I am extremely attracted to you.”_ The idea was ludicrous.

In the end, Zuko doesn’t bring it up. Sokka doesn’t come by that evening, and stays away the next two days, ostensibly to spend time with Katara. Zuko tries to get over his hurt; someone like Sokka liking him back was a long shot anyway.

On the third day, Zuko is about to head out on his morning walk when the lifeguard cart pulls up to the gate and Sokka jumps out.

“Hey, Zuko!” Sokka says with his usual cheer. “Glad I caught you.”

“Hi, Sokka,” Zuko rasps. His voice feels hoarse from not talking to anyone for the past few days.

“Sorry I wasn’t around to hang out,” Sokka continues. “Katara wanted to have one-on-one time, and then stupid Jet got ‘sick’ — I think he just didn’t want to work while the surf was so good — so I’ve been pulling extra shifts.”

“It’s okay,” Zuko lies, as if he hadn’t spent the last seventy-two hours moping inconsolably around the house.

“I miss you, man!” Sokka says with a pout. Zuko tries to ignore the squirming in his gut seeing this expression. “C’mon, I’ve got a five minute break. Let me give you a ride to the other end of the beach.”

“That sort of defeats the purpose of a morning walk,” Zuko points out, but he climbs into the cart anyway. 

Sokka grins and maneuvers onto the packed sand. They set off, a cool breeze ruffling through Zuko’s hair as they drive.

“How are things going with the book?”

“I think I’m at a good stopping point, actually.”

“Wait, does that mean I can read it now?”

Zuko hesitates for a moment before impulse steals over him.

“Sure.”

Sokka slams on the breaks and they both lurch forward. He throws the cart into reverse and it feebly backs up over the sand.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanna read your book! We’re going back to your place so you can get me a copy. I know you printed it out like a weirdo.”

This was true. Zuko did like to edit on paper rather than on a computer, and insisted on having a pristine, unmarked draft printed out when he was finished. He had admitted this to Sokka in one of their evening discussions about weird work habits. Sokka had confessed that he had irrational hatred of yellow sticky notes and only used blue ones, which Zuko thought was way weirder than his printing obsession.

Zuko makes a few feeble attempts to dissuade Sokka from reading his book, but Sokka insists.

“You promised,” Sokka argues. “And I need something to do for the next few days while I can’t see you.”

“Oh?” Zuko asks, a flash of disappointment flitting across his face.

“Yeah,” Sokka says with apologetic grimace. “My dad is coming into town, which is great, but Katara scheduled the bejesus out his visit. We’re going to like, four botanical gardens.”

“The one on the bluffs is actually pretty nice. I used to feed the ducks there with my mom.”

Sokka’s expression softens.

“Well, I’ll be sure to bring some snacks for the ducks. But three more seems excessive. At least now I’ll have a good book to read while my dad and Katara talk about landscaping. It’s so weird they’re both into that. You’d think we’d have had a better yard growing up.”

“Does anything really grow year-round in the South Pole though?”

“Fair enough,” Sokka says, putting on the parking break. “Now go get me that book!”

Zuko expects to feel nervous as he hands over the manuscript to Sokka. He’s been keeping it in a three-ring binder so he can rip out and add pages as needed, so the presentation leaves much to be desired. But Sokka’s face lights up as he grabs the book, and Zuko feels his heart fill to bursting. No one has looked so excited about anything Zuko has done in years. It’s a heady feeling, and as they drive back up the beach again, Zuko grins freely.

“You look happy,” Sokka says as they pull up to the lifeguard tower. “Man, it’s a bummer I can’t hang out right now.”

Zuko seizes upon his daring to initiate a hug goodbye. Sokka looks surprised.

“Let me know when you’re free again,” Zuko says quickly as he steps away.

“Yeah, man, looking forward to it.”

Zuko had intended to walk, but finds himself jogging instead. There’s a glimmer of something inside him — hope? Happiness? He’s not sure — but it feels too good to contain. The waters of Ember Island sparkle at his feet, and he races along, his mind happily imagining what the week ahead might bring. He scans the shore occasionally for stingrays, but the tide is low. Today, he is safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter coming soon :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumped up the rating for this ;)

Although he doesn’t see Sokka for several days, Zuko does receive texts from him. Often he asks for restaurant recommendations near the landmarks in Katara’s itinerary, but sometimes he just sends a picture of something interesting accompanied by a terrible pun. Zuko’s favorite is a video of the ducks at the pond with the accompanying _check out my new duck-umentary_.

Zuko occupies himself in Sokka’s absence. His editor is also in the process of going through his manuscript, and Zuko has the usual daily chores around the house to take care of. He calls uncle Iroh twice, just for the pleasure of it, and he stays on top of his usual fitness regime. It’s a nice reminder that he can get through the days fine without Sokka around, even if it is a little less fun.

It’s a rare gloomy morning when Sokka finally announces his return.

_Sokka: Figures I finally have a whole day free and the weather is shitty. You wanna hang out? (10:17AM)_

Zuko has no shame. He answers immediately.

_Zuko: Yeah, sure. My place? (10:17AM)_

_Sokka: Already on my way (10:18AM)_

_Zuko: Please tell me you’re not texting and driving (10:18AM)_

_Sokka: Chill, dude. Speech to text. Get the hell out of my lane jackass what are you doing (10:19AM)_

_Sokka: Ignore that last part. My bad. (10:20AM)_

Zuko spends the next few minutes making his way through his list of emails. He is just finishing the last one when he hears Sokka enter the front door.

“ _Zuko? You here?_ ”

“Upstairs!”

Sokka comes bounding up the stairs. Zuko hears him enter the bedroom as he types out his last few sentences.

“Sorry about that,” Zuko says, shutting his laptop and turning around to see Sokka.

“No worries,” Sokka says, staring out at the horizon. “Man, what a view.”

Zuko frowns.

“You’ve been in here before.”

“Only at night,” Sokka corrects. “When I had to drag your ass to bed.”

“If I remember correctly, you volunteered to carry me every time.”

“That I did,” Sokka says with a cheeky grin.

They watch the moody skies rumbling over the ocean. It may be chilly and rainy, but it does not detract from the beauty of the landscape. After a minute, Sokka starts.

“Dude, we need to talk about this.”

Sokka holds up the binder in his hand. Zuko’s stomach twists into knots.

“You hated it, didn’t you?”

“Hated it!” Sokka shouts, incredulous. “Zuko, this was one of the best books I’ve ever read in _life_.”

Zuko can’t resist.

“And how many books would that be total?”

“Such a jerk,” Sokka says with a smirk, tossing the binder onto Zuko’s desk. “But I’m serious! It was so good. I didn’t realize it was going to be fantasy, but it felt so _real_. The plot was fantastic — the war, the Avatar cycle, all the different nations and cultures — but the _characters_ , wow. I felt like I knew them!”

Zuko flushes, his heart bursting with pride.

“You really liked it?”

“I did,” Sokka says seriously. “It was so good. Please tell me you’re making a sequel.”

“I’m getting it signed on as a trilogy, actually.”

“Yes!” Sokka pumps a fist in the air. “Will you tell me what happens in the end? Does the Avatar kill the Firelord? Wait! Don’t spoil it… No, tell me! I have to know!”

Zuko can’t help laughing. Sokka grins at him before leafing through the binder again.

“I couldn’t put it down,” Sokka admits. “Stayed up way later than I should’ve when my dad was in town. Katara was kind of annoyed, but she’ll totally get it when she reads this. Worth the lost sleep.”

Zuko says nothing, his throat too tight to speak.

“And you did a really great job with all the character development,” Sokka continues. “When the Fire Nation Prince was struggling with his sexuality… man, I felt that _hard_.”

Zuko blinks, his smile evaporating.

“What?”

“It was really realistic,” Sokka adds, flipping to one of the scenes in the middle of the story. “I felt like you were inside my teenage brain.”

“But you’re straight.”

Sokka turns to stare at Zuko, brow furrowed in confusion.

“I’m definitely not.”

“But…” Zuko protests. “But you only ever mentioned ex-girlfriends!”

Sokka goes slightly pink and rubs the back of his head nervously.

“Well, I’ve only ever _had_ ex-girlfriends. It… took me a long time to come out. Lots of internalized bi-phobia and all that. I don’t really have as much experience with guys. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like them.”

“Oh.”

Silence falls between them, and Sokka gives Zuko a wary look.

“Does that… bother you?” he asks.

“No,” Zuko says quickly. “Of course not. I…”

Zuko sees something click in Sokka’s expression.

“You’re not straight either, are you?”

“No,” Zuko repeats.

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“I thought _you_ were.”

Sokka’s laugh rings throughout the room.

“Zuko, I’ve been trying to flirt with you all summer.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really! Why do you think I kept bringing you tacos?”

“Because you like eating tacos and I enabled your terrible eating habits?”

“Okay, that’s a fair point,” Sokka agrees. “But I kept telling you I thought you looked nice, and I was _so obvious_ about hugging you and —“

“You kept calling me ‘dude,’” Zuko says in a pained voice. “You said we were going to ‘bro down.’”

“Two bros can totally be into each other and make out!”

“Can they though?”

“Why not?” Sokka argues. “You don’t like the way I talk?”

“I do!” Zuko protests. “That’s not the problem. I just thought… well, you call _everyone_ dude. Even your sister. I just thought, y’know… you weren’t into me.”

“Zuko,” Sokka says seriously. “You are literally the hottest guy I have ever met. No, really—“ he adds as Zuko scoffs. “Trust me on this one. You are crazy hot. _And_ you’re super generous, _and_ you’ll listen to me geek out about comic books, _and_ you’ll talk to me about feelings and shit. I have had a super massive crush on your all summer and it literally did not occur to me for one second that you might have been interested in me, too.”

Zuko feels slightly taken aback. He’s never been complimented in such rapid succession before.

“All summer?” Zuko asks faintly.

“Yup,” Sokka confirms with a shrug. “Katara kept telling me just to get over myself and tell you how I felt, but…”

He shrugs again, looking down at the floor. Several second pass before he looks up again.

“Um, I can just go…”

“Wait,” Zuko says quickly. “I’m not good with words.”

“I beg to differ,” Sokka says with a frown. “I just read a whole freaking _masterpiece_ that you wrote. This book made me _cry_ , Zuko. When the Water Tribe Princess turned into the moon? _Devastating_.”

“I’m not good at speaking words,” Zuko amends. “I mean, talking. Whatever. I’m trying to say I…”

He trails off, rubbing his face. He wishes he had a minute to write down his thoughts; there are so many swirling in his head it makes it hard to focus. He takes a deep breath.

“Sokka. I have liked you all summer, too. I assumed you just wanted to be friends, so I was trying really hard not to overstep and do anything… I don’t know, creepy?”

“Dude, for real?”

Zuko huffs a laugh. It always seems so hard to believe that Sokka isn’t a good surfer given that he talks exactly like them.

“Yes, for real. And I kept feeling like _such_ a creep — asking you to come over all the time, offering for you to sleep here — because I thought you just wanted to be my friend while I was secretly hoping that you would just walk up and kiss me.”

“I can do that. But you have to stand up — I’m not kissing you while you’re sitting in a chair. Seems logistically challenging.”

Zuko jumps up so quickly that Sokka takes a startled step backwards and bursts into laughter.

“Man, this whole time,” Sokka chuckles. “We could’ve been making out this whole time.”

“My uncle says that life can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Cool.”

For a moment, Zuko wants to provoke Sokka into saying something else — he can’t have their first kiss be prefaced by the word ‘ _cool_ ’ — but this reaction is just so Sokka-esque that Zuko can’t help but be charmed by it.

The kiss is gentle and sweet, nothing like the white-hot passion of Zuko’s fantasies. Those daydreams had always ended so quickly, but this kiss holds the promise of something more. Something warm and precious.

Zuko pulls away slightly to make sure Sokka hasn’t changed his mind about the kiss, but Sokka only pulls him in more closely. Zuko smiles against his lips. The kiss heats as Sokka traces his tongue along Zuko’s bottom lip, and he lets out a hum of anticipation. The kiss might not be white-hot yet, but Zuko can tell the potential is there. 

A clap of thunder echoes outside, and Zuko and Sokka pull apart, slightly surprised. Sokka’s eyes are as dark as the sea roiling outside, and he pulls Zuko back in for another deep kiss.

“Never made out with someone the same height as me,” Sokka admits. “Way easier on your neck.”

“It does have its perks,” Zuko agrees as he presses open-mouthed kisses to Sokka’s throat. Sokka squirms and Zuko can feel him pressing against his hips.

“I know you said you didn’t have much experience with men,” Zuko says carefully. “I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything.”

“I don’t,” Sokka pants. “I really, really want to fool around with you, but I, uh... can’t promise I’ll be very good at it. I mean, I’m pretty good at getting myself off,” he adds with a wink.

“Fuck, Sokka” Zuko whispers hoarsely. “Do you know how many times I have imagined you doing that?”

Sokka gives Zuko a cocky grin that drives all his blood south.

“I have spent a _lot_ of time getting myself off thinking about you,” Sokka admits. “Definitely jerked off in your shower more than once. Sorry if that’s not cool, but I couldn’t help it. It was after our workout sessions on leg day. _Man_ , you’ve got a great ass.”

Zuko moans appreciatively.

“Odds are I was jerking off thinking about you at the same time,” Zuko rasps against Sokka’s skin.

“ _Fuck_ , please tell me you want to do more than just make out right now.”

Zuko responds by clawing at Sokka’s shirt, which quickly devolves into a mess of hands trying to yank off the other’s clothing. Sokka pulls away after a moment.

“Okay, taking off another guy’s pants is weirdly hard. Everything is backwards,” he frowns. “Can we just take our own clothes off?”

“Sure. And if you’re not comfortable —“

“Very comfortable. Would like to be very naked with you immediately, please, now.”

Zuko snorts and sets about removing his clothes. The hungry look on Sokka’s face mirrors his own. Zuko sets in to kiss Sokka again, and Sokka melts into his arms.

“Katara would kill me if I didn’t do my requisite health inquiries,” Sokka mumbles as Zuko reaches up to loosen his hair.

“I’m all clear,” Zuko says, admiring the way Sokka’s hair slides through his fingers. “And it’s not like I’m seeing anyone else.”

“Okay, same,” Sokka says happily. “I’m going to tackle you onto the bed now.”

Zuko offers no protest and lets Sokka push him down onto the mattress. The feel of Sokka pressed against him is exquisite, the perfect blend of soft skin and hard muscle. There is a sense of danger, of being held down by someone as strong as Zuko himself, but there is comfort, too. Zuko knows that if he wants Sokka to stop, he would without question, but right now he can think of nothing better than this.

Sokka’s groans turn into needy whines as he ruts against Zuko. Zuko finds this hopelessly endearing, and he moves to flip Sokka over onto his back. Sokka stares up at him, wide-eyed.

“Can I suck your cock?” Zuko asks.

Sokka nods fervently but quickly adds: “I, uh, can go down on you, too, but…”

Zukp presses a kiss to Sokka’s temple and smiles.

“Don’t worry about me. I want to make you feel good right now.”

Sokka seems too overcome to say much else, so Zuko works his way down to take Sokka in his mouth. He hums as Sokka groans. Zuko moves up and down, his hand following the trail of his mouth as Sokka’s hands twist in the sheets. He gets lost in the rhythm and sensation of Sokka’s pleasure.

“Can I touch your hair?” Sokka chokes out.

Zuko reaches up with one hand and undoes his own hairband, his inky hair spilling down onto his shoulders. Zuko almost always wore his hair up — it was easier and he actually quite enjoyed his routine of styling it into a top knot in the mornings — but he thinks he might change his style given Sokka’s moan of desire. Sokka’s hands thread through the strands, tugging gently as Zuko nods to give permission to pull a little tighter. Sokka doesn’t ever yank, just teases as Zuko resumes his ministrations. He is achingly hard now, and his hand twitches to touch himself, but he wants to please Sokka first. It will only make it better when he finally knows what Sokka looks like as he falls apart.

“Zuko,” Sokka gasps. “I’m gonna… Oh, _fuck_ , Zuko, gonna make me come so hard…”

Sokka gives a final groan as he spills into Zuko’s mouth, his thighs shaking with his release. Zuko continues to bob his head gently as Sokka spasms. Zuko doesn’t normally enjoy swallowing, but he is loath to leave the bed just yet, so he carefully wipes the back of his mouth and crawls up to kiss Sokka.

“Holy shit,” Sokka breathes. “Zuko, that was… _damn_.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” Sokka says fervently. “That was fucking awesome.”

Zuko flops back onto the bed next to Sokka, hiding his blush by kissing Sokka’s neck.

“So, uh,” Sokka says weakly. “I’d like to return the favor.”

“You don’t have to,” Zuko says quickly. “Seriously, Sokka. I —"

“I want to,” Sokka says, his dreamy expression hardening into resolve. “I just want to give you a head’s up. It’s not going to be as mind-blowing as what you did to me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Zuko says seriously. “I think you might be underestimating just how ridiculously attractive I find you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sokka says with a cocky grin. “You think I’m hot?”

“I told you that on like, the second day we hung out.”

“Oh, I remember. I’ve thought about that a _lot_.”

“Then why did you think I wasn’t into you?”

“If I recall,” Sokka says with a haughty expression. “I responded by calling _you_ hot and you didn’t have a response either, so let’s agree we were both equally stupid and just focus on all the sex we’re going to have now.”

“…Okay.”

Sokka’s hands roam down Zuko’s body as he kisses him with increasing intensity. Zuko is gasping slightly as Sokka tugs on him experimentally; Sokka might not be very experienced, but Zuko doesn’t really care very much. He’s usually happy just to get any affection at all, especially if it comes with the promise of more in the future.

Sokka looks nervous as he bows his head, and Zuko almost wants to remind him again that he doesn’t have to do anything, but Sokka’s nerves seem to lessen as he takes Zuko into his mouth. He seems to be testing the waters, slowly trying out various movements and cataloguing Zuko’s responses. Zuko runs his hands through Sokka’s hair. He particularly enjoyed the soft fuzz of Sokka’s undercut and he sighs as Sokka begins to speed up. 

It takes Zuko a minute to realize Sokka’s strategy, at which point Zuko’s brain is positively alight with electricity. Sokka’s experiments had been to collect data on what Zuko liked best, and now Sokka was hitting each movement in a rhythmic circuit. Zuko had certainly been with more experienced men, men who knew how to deep throat or perform other handy tricks, but he had never been with anyone who had paid so much attention to _him_ before. No one had ever tried to please Zuko to his exact specifications. It is this thought, combined with the overwhelming physical pleasure of Sokka’s mouth, that takes him to the edge.

He manages to warn Sokka, but the force of his orgasm sneaks up on him. Zuko feels his eyes roll into his head before he can focus on Sokka again.

Sokka stares at him with a strange expression on his face.

“What?” Zuko asks, an edge of panic in his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Sokka says, shaking his head. “Just doesn’t taste like what I imagined.”

“Ah, sorry about that. I wanted to give you more of a head’s up.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to do it,” Sokka says casually. “Wanted to know what it was like.”

“Well, that was, to borrow your expression, _fucking awesome_.”

“Yeah?” Sokka asks with a grin.

“Yeah,” Zuko confirms. “You have a gift.”

“I was trying to figure out what you liked first,” Sokka admits. “I figured that would be the way to go.”

“You were right,” Zuko says with a smile. “Being a ‘plan guy’ is very romantic.”

“How’s this for romance? I already know where I’m taking you on our first date. If that’s something you want to do, that is,” Sokka adds quickly.

Zuko feels his heart squeeze happily.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.”

“Great! Then I’m taking you to Mama J’s for lunch. No ordering in — you’ve got to meet Mama J herself.”

“I’m deeply honored. Perhaps I should put on something more suitable than my current outfit?”

“Honestly, she would probably be into this. I _did_ tell her you were super hot.”

“…You told the taco lady about me?”

“She wanted to know why I was buying so many tacos!” Sokka protests. “She was threatening to cut me off. So I told her they were for a cute guy and, well, she _did_ promise me if I worked up the nerve to actually ask you out, she would give us a round of tacos on the house.”

“Ah, I see,” Zuko says with a grin. “You’re using me for free food.”

“Yes, that was clearly my plan all along,” Sokka agrees, rolling his eyes. “To seduce you so I don’t have to spend ten dollars on tacos.”

“Is that what I’m worth to you? Ten dollars?”

“Zuko,” Sokka says seriously. “You are worth every last one of Mama J’s tacos.”

“You know what?” Zuko replies. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has said to me.”

“Yeah, I know, I have a way with words,” Sokka grins. “Now come on. Let’s find out if post-sex tacos are better than just regular tacos.”

They drive through the misty, empty streets of Ember Island, an upbeat pop song playing on Sokka’s radio. They don’t say much, but every time their eyes meet, they start laughing. It’s cheesy and ridiculous and exactly as wonderful as Zuko could have ever hoped for.

When they arrive, Sokka points at a large brewery at the end of the block.

“Mama J makes the tacos in there. Usually the lunch rush is kind of crazy, but I bet it’s better today because the weather is bad. Whoa,” Sokka adds, noticing the look on Zuko’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Sokka, did you ever notice what the brewery was called?”

“No,” Sokka says, frowning. “I always just call it Mama J’s but…”

He trails off, noticing the large sign hanging over the sidewalk.

**_The Stingray_ **

“Oh, Spirits” Sokka says faintly. “It was right there in front of me this whole time. A literal _sign_. Katara is never going to let me live this down.”

Zuko wraps an arm around Sokka’s shoulders, sighing happily when Sokka turns towards him to return the embrace.

“Would it make you feel better to eat an obnoxious amount of tacos?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, buddy. Let’s get some tacos.”

“How is you calling me ‘buddy’ any less confusing than me calling you ‘man’ or ‘dude?’”

“Because I’ve already had your cock in my mouth, _buddy_.”

Sokka snorts.

“Whatever, man.”

They confirm Sokka’s hypothesis: post-sex tacos are delicious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! It's been a fun summer of writing — nothing else on the horizon at the moment, but I've really enjoyed being able to share all of the stories that have been bouncing around my head this year. I hope you all stay safe and healthy, and write your own fun stories in real life ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come :)


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